The Notre Dame Scholastic - Volume 54 Issue 21

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taineOTcholastic

DISCE • QUASI- SEMPER- VICTURVS •• VIVE ■ QUASI- CRAS- JHORITVRVS

Vol. LIV.

NOTRE DAME, INDIANA, March 26, 1921.

No. 21.

THIS YEAR'S EDITORS.

{Then said Zarathusa: ‘Us not every goose that has
‘ a respectable quill.’

Between the bearded author of Beowulf

that the gods could give us some of that
same affection for the best that has been
said and thought during the ages, for lofty
standards of mind and heart, for intellectual
industry. In addition to student contribu-

and that ultra-modern Broadway sensation, tions the early Scholastics are gay with the
Clare Rummer, there is no relation except the humour of Stace, that genial forerunner of
business of making words. Between the Walt Mason, Stoddard the spiritual; Egan,
Scholastic of today and its venerable ancestor the gai sabreur of literature, and the stately
of fifty years ago, there exists, however, the productions of Judge Howard/Father Zahm
friendly companionship of father and son. and Austin O’Malley. Through them the
Both have understood that the matter of little magazine acquired an atmosphere of

conducting a Uni-
versity is not inde-
pendent of news.

Despite the most
pessimistic utter-
anees of per-less
Walshites, things
have happened in
this vicinity and
people have always
been interested in
hearing a bo u t
them.

Now one of ■ the ;
most important
matters that can occur to any school is tlie
mental development of its men. Not every-"
one will agree with this statement: its ac-
ceptance depends somewhat upon one’s
state of mind. But for the long file of aril-

BOARD OF EDITORS

Alfred N. Slaggert, ’21

M. Joseph- Tierney, ’21

Walter M. O’Keefe, ’21

Edwin W. Murphy, ’23

Henry Stevenson ’21

.Vincent Engels, ’23

Aaron H.Huguenard, ’22

Harold E. McKee, ’22

Edward B. Degree, .’23

J. W. Hogan, C. S. C„ ’22

Leo R. Ward, C. S. C., ’23

Frank Wallace, ’23

R M. Murch, C. S. C., ’23

H. W. Flannery, ’23

Charles P.

Mooney, ’21

belles lettres which
the more raucous
years have not suc-
ceeded in removing. ,
It would be an evil
day upon which the
flavor of the Scho-
lastic were to be
lost, like the odour
of. an aging rose:
we must do our
best, striving to be
worthy both of our
fathers and of our-
selves.

This year’s editors need offer no apology
for their endeavor. It has been consistent
and not always easy. Several of them have
applied every laudatory . adjective in the
dictionary. Some have even been obliged to

bitious lads who have: successively conducted write love poetry while other, lads were

the Scholastic there has been no doubt about
it. They have set to work ; resolutely at
their literary tasks ; conscious that although
Shakespeare might not suffer any eclipse of
fame because of them, the effort to write
is fascinating and worth while.' Their

poetically loving. If they have not always
succeeded in saying the proper thing just
when somebody wanted it, the lapse has not
been intentional. No other Notre Dame men
have been more eager to serve the general
welfare of the student body or to do their

readers have, in general smiled indulgently, work silently that others might be men-
The old Scholastic was a stately little tioned publicly. They deserve the testimony
magazine devoted to literattire, fine arts and' that has been set to honor them — this
the honor roll. It is rather - easy for us to present permission to appear in public,
smile at these things now,, but. ... would " —the director. ’

'Sfie Norre 6ame £eholascicr

346

RESURRECTION DAY.

ALFRED N. SLAGGERT, 5 21 .

T HE divinity of Christ is indisput-
ably manifested by His miracles.
Throughout the Bible are found
recorded the works of wonder that
were performed by Christ during His brief
span of years on earth the very na-
ture of which distin-
guish their Author as
exalted, transcendent, di-
vine. Apologists have
proved beyond the pos-
sibility of a doubt that
the Bible as an historic
chronicle is authentic,
truthful and intact.
Reasonable men accept
the testimonies of this
Book; rejection brands
the unbeliever none
other than a positive skeptic.

Miracle and prophecy have always been
placed first by the Fathers of the Church in
writing of the signs of true revelation.
“Miracle,” says the eminent Cardinal Pie,
“is the veritable pivot of the Christian re-
ligion. Neither through His prophets nor
through His Son did God endeavor to
demonstrate by any process of reasoning the
possibility of the truths which He taught;
or the fitness of the precepts which He im-
posed upon the world. He spoke, He com-
manded ; and as a guarantee of His
doctrines, as a justification of His authority,
He worked miracles.” From all parts of
the Holy Land came the ill and the deformed
to seek the Galilean who cured by word or
touch. At the. marriage feast of Cana He
changed water into wine; thousands were
fed in the desert with a few loaves and a
few fishes; the words, “Young man, I say
to these arise!” brought Lazarus forth from
his tomb. Miracle followed miracle and
through the land there spread a murmur of
wonder and amazement at this demonstra-
tion of ineffable power. Then, as if to
grant to men a most significant sign of His
divinity. He returned resplendently to life
after an ignominious death on the barren
summit of Calvary. The glorious mystery
of Christ’s Resurrection is the preeminent,

irrefragable event that marks its Author as
God and His mission, sacred.

The hour of intense agony in Gethsemane
had passed and into that Garden of Sorrows
rushed a riotous rabble that would have the
life of a pretender, a blasphemer, Who had
declared Himself the Son of God and the
Kings of Kings. What claim could this sim-
ple Man have to an empire of unsurpassed
grandeur? Preposterous! It was an im-
position that they would not tolerate. Off
to the Sanhedrin they violently rushed Him,
and there before the hypocritical body of
sages the Man-God stood in mild, sweet re-
signation, a compassionate Figure, for well
He knew the treachery, the perfidy, the
loathing that lurked within the hearts of
His interrogators. Then spoke Caiphas, the
high-priest; “I adjure Thee by the Living
God that Thou tell us whether Thou art the
Christ, the Son of the Living God!” Know-
ing that He was -signing His death warrant,
Jesus answered gently; “Thou hast said
it.” Plunged into frenzy by His firm reply,
the Judges clambered to their feet, and down
through the corridors echoed their shriek,
“He is worthy of death!” To the court of
Pontius Pilate, the Roman procurator of
Judea, they hurried the Pathetic Figure. In
Him Pilate saw no harm but they pleaded,
they implored, that He be delivered into
their hands for execution. Louder and
louder, like the dull rumble of an approach-
ing tempest came the outcry ; “Let Him be
crucified : Let Him be crucified !” and

Pilate, succumbing to the supplications and
the threats of the canaille, yielded, for it
was prophesied that by death would the Son
of God expiate the iniquity of the world.

The death march began. Jesus shouldered
the heavy cross and, followed by the execu-
tioners and the taunting mob, He started on
His arduous journey over the stony road to
Calvary Hill where workmen were already
busy preparing for .a speedy execution. He
was stripped of His garments and wrenched
into the proper position on the prostrate
cross. Heavy nails pierced His sacred hands
and feet; the cross dropped with a dull thud
into the deep trench and there for three
hours, meekly suffering the most inhuman
torture, He hung between Heaven and earth
in the sight of His Blessed Mother, Mag-

'fcfie Noure Same Scholastic

dalene, John and the morbid populace.
Then death came to still His patient Heart
and the lacerated body , was consigned to
Joseph of Arimathea for burial.

The Jews, remembering that Jesus said
He would arise again, caused the sepulchre
to be securely sealed and stationed around it
a heavily armed guard. But how futile their
precautions ! For the anointers, going to the
tomb on the third day, found the Roman
guard in a deep sleep and the heavy stone
rolled away from the entrance to the sepul-
chre. Stricken with fear they were about to
'flee when an angel, seated within the tomb,
addressed them. “Be not affrighted; ye seek
Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He
is risen; He is not here; behold the place
where they laid Him.” Christ is risen ! The
most exalted proof of His divinity is
consummated.

Numerous' bitter attempts to brand the
miracle of the Resurrection . as false, as a
mere myth, have been made by the enemies
who assail the splendour of Christ’s Church.
But how futile their efforts ! The very
failure of the virulent attacks only tends
to more firmly establish the truth. Witness
the logic of Strauss who, after much hy-
pothesizing, gratuitously affirms that Christ
never left the tomb. As if the enemies of
Christianity, were such a contention true,
would not have seized upon it as a means
of furthering their malicious activity
against Christ and his" Church. Strauss,'
skeptic that he was, could not explain away
the zealous faith of- the Twelve that sent
them throughout the world preaching the
word of the Risen Master — a faith that
death could not quell. Even Strauss can-
not force himself to play tlm intellectual fool
consistently for he writes : “If. we do not

find a means of explaining, without a
miracle, the origin of faith in the Resur-
rection of Jesus, we are obliged to . deny all
that we have said, and to renounce our en-
terprise.” Consider the contentions of
Renan who proffers many humorously illogi-
cal solutions and finally attributes the en-
tire matter to chance ; and this to reasonable
men !

The Resurrection was no trick of- the im-
agination; hundreds of witnesses could
scarcely be considered the victims of hal-

347

lueination. The words of Christ, “Destroy
this temple, and in three days I will build it
up again,” constituted no. mere allegory.
Had not this prophecy been fulfilled, the
very foundation of our faith would . have
been found wanting. St. Paul succintly tells
the Corinthians of the folly of belief in
Christ and His doctrines had not this signif-
icant event oeurred; “And if Christ be not
risen, your faith is in vain, for you are yet
in your sins.” (1 Cor. xv.)

Truly Christian people have more than
sufficient cause for rejoicing during this
Holy Season set aside for the fitting obser-
vation of Christ’s Passion, Death and Resur-
rection. That He is risen is an incontestable
fact and by this marvelous event He has
furnished us with the most weighty attesta-
tion of His divinityf

THE TURN IN THE ROAD.

L. R. WARD,, c. s. a, ’23.

Who of mortals is so very contented with
his lot that he at no time wishes to take
wings and be up and away from his daily

environs and associa-
tions — his own very
commonplace life?
Neither you nor I nor
any man upon earth is
free from the need of
variety. A thing may be
good, but a little flavor
rarely fails to make it
better. You start out in
the morning on a smooth
straight road; you drive
fast all day with not
a- halt, straight on and on: you go a.
long way, but does such a day appeal to
you? Of course it does not. At heart you
are like your neighbors; you would feel
strangely lonesome and dissatisfied if there
were never a turn or an incline in your path,
if for no other purpose than just to remind
you that always you are on your way to
something different and, presumably, better.
It is a long, cheerless road that never turns
nor promises to turn, and who wants to
follow it?

Little surprises along our way, unpremed-
itated coincidences, little but unexpected

34 &

Nocre 6ame Scholastic

turns of fortune, make up the best in our
daily journeyings. They are the “news”
that we find worth going minutely over
when we get home; and the folks at home,
crestfallen because they could not experience
the original, are in part recompensed by the
reproduction. “What’s the news over your
way?” is the commonest query in the
chance meetings of husbandmen; “Sure
ain’t there ever anything new anymore!”
Anything, you see, — at first thought, even a
calamity, — seems more tolerable than bare
monotony. The voice of the newsmonger —
there is always one — on the country tele-
phoneline commands all ears. Shut men
away from current fact, and they will live
on hearsay; close up, if you can, the curious
sources of hearsay, and give them all things
else, and they pine away — they starve. We
all run to a fire or a street-fight. That old
house we have never particularly observed
before, now it engages all our best energies.
Those two ruffians were commonplace
enough until they collided, now a world of
interest centers about them. If I were al-
ways to have pie for dinner, and especially
if I knew I always were to have pie, then
the mere promise of dinner without pie
would be welcome. Why, in boarding-
schools, so they say, the students finally get
tired of cantaloup ,- 1 prunes, and beans, and —
think of it — even of the hourly peal of the
bell! I once heard a student say, when a
free-day was unexpectly declared: “We’d

go to school forever, if there was a vacation
promised at the end.”

The most hopelessly cold-natured in-
dividual you can conceive of is the fellow
who insists upon laying out exasperatingly
straight walks in his garden, who has every-
thing, from morning till night, mapped out,
who never misplaces anything, who day
after day takes up his knife and fork or
Ins morning paper with an evident stolidity,
aiid without an air of relief lays by his or-
dinary routine for an hour’s spin. He may
indeed attain to a machine-like efficiency,
but you would not choose him for your
partner in a game of five-hundred. Military
corners, you know, are purely mechanical,
aye, even artificial. There is nothing of art
in them or of nature. Turn out your regi-
ment for a plunge, and see whether anyone

null slight the corners. I once watched some
school-boys going to their playground.
There was a' choice of two paths— one way
had three turns, the other a single turn.
One of sixty boys took the path of one turn ;
and/ divided between sympathy for the lad
and despair of him, I have always cherished
the fancy that his singularity was deter-
mined by some motive as urgent as a
salutary fear of more than one of the solid
fifty-nine. And who will say that those
youths, without an exception, would not
have abandoned paths altogether and taken
the sward for it, if they had not felt the
constraining force of some tutor’s eye? We
extol Nature’s perfection, and, trying to
imitate it, forget that Nature rounds her
corners, and never gives us two successive
days alike. And we, the most cut-and-dried
of us, would not be loath in time to see even
melliflous spring yield to scorching summer,
and mellow autumn to stern winter. Men
weary of sunshine as they do of rain. Your
perfectly level garden of shubbery, your
bedded flowers of one hue and kind — why,
these things are ostensibly artificial, they do
not square with Nature’s imperfection.
Nature bestows upon fields or wood some re-
deeming undulation, and she calls her varie-
gated array of flowers perfect, when she has
mixed rank weeds with them. The grain-
fields of Dakota are beautiful, when the
wind makes a thousand waves of them; at
rest they are most ordinary. Even the stars
of heaven, it would seem, were sown by a
careless hand.

How are we to explain the institution of
vagabondage? Men are not driven to it by
love of ease, or by hope of big returns : in
either case, they are deceived and would
soon abandon it. But consider the illimita-
ble possibilities! Your tramps sets off at
his leisure, at eight or ten o’clock, or not
till after noon — who cares when? — and,
weight it well before condemning the pro-
fession, without any binding schedule for
the season or for a single day of ,it! He
takes his chance; his is not an easy life:
there are rags, to be sure, and sore feet and
empty stomach. These, however, are “but
incidental, and the one chance, lost in a
thousand, that they will somehow lead to
• gold and the gout, is the elusive recompense

Nacre Same Seholascie

349

for- which he barters all that we consider
essential to every day existence. The tramp
may be an opportunist, but he is also an
irrepressible optimist. He is a Micawber,
feeding- on those better things which are
about to turn up. And you, overlooking the
contingency that at heart you too are for
tramping, do you, out for a recreating walk
or on a forgotten errand, not desert the'
beaten asphalted highway, — that cold, dry,
lifeless thoroughfare of commerce, — and
without much hesitation allow your path to
shape itself and to lead you, you know not
where; are you not willing, provided, of
course, that no one is looking, to chance
your life on a “wire-bridge” or a crazy raft,
when a hundred yards away is a quarter-
million dollar Cantilever? The vague but
engaging possibility of something unex-
pected behind every bush,- — something new,
perhaps terrifying, — makes' the walk

through unfrequented ways inviting. To-
ward the unfamiliar our attitude, says some
one, is “full of joyous possibilities.” Why,
is not. the hope of things unseen the very
key of the best of all we try to do? The
ancient travelling bard had, to be sure, the
poetry of '.his song to urge him on ; but
another poetry as great and as’ commanding,
that old stinging and divine unrest for the
new and unaccustomed in faces and places,
went far to set all obstacles at naughtr
Why do men hr every age and clime love
sea-faring, exploration, hunting and trap-
ping; why is no speculation in mining too
wild? Perhaps motives are mixed, but one
predominates — the charm of the unfamiliar.
Great missionaries, as Father De Smet, have
been most , rapacious of new lands, new
people, new conquests. I knew a woman
who, driven to desperation with dish-wash-
ing, used to say, “Give me the gypsy’s life —
no dishes, — -your- whole day free as the birds
of the air!”

We are so constituted that a very little
variety, range, freedom puts a wholly dif-
ferent face on everything about us. But
what very foolish steps we sometimes take
to secure that variety! How we do look
forward to some empty this or that! We
just live for some future event which per-
haps will never come and certainly is un-
worthy of our so rosy anticipations. Any-

thing can be overdone. You are promised
a rare pudding; it is overdone and comes
to you a nameless thing, charred and dis-
figured. So variety when overworked loses
all its charm. For the monotony which of
all monotonies is the least bearable is that
of variety itself. A pinch of salt tends to
savor, but not everyone likes a hodge-podge.
The rich man, after all, is he who can
build up for himself a little world out of
everything he meets. For, says George
Eliot, “What novelty is worth that sweet
monotony where everything is known, and
loved because it is known?”

EASTER JOY. .

J. W. HOGAN, C. S. C. } ’22.

It is characteristic of Mother Church that
she should lead her children on from joy to
joy as they make their way over the weary.

stages of their journey.
It is not enough that she
should point the way to
that celestial coun t*r y
where happiness
abounds; ever and anon
she pauses a while and
refreshes their spirits
with the - delights and
mysteries of that faith
which is the pledge of
their eternal recom-
pense. It is Easter.

Then sing ye angels, sing a joyous song!
Loud let the heavenly accents ring
In welcome to the risen King!

Come mortals all and join this’ throng.

Ye that laugh and ye that weep,

Ye that travel o’re the deep.

Through vale or. over mountains steep.
Lift up your hearts and let your lips
proclaim

The victory of the Christ who came
A legate to this world of sin, _

That He might win men back again.

And lead them to the footstool of their God.

Thoughts are far better messengers to
Heaven than words.

Ambition is the spark in the engine of .
success.

1

'STfte Norre 5ame Seholascie

“LO! THE POOR CRITIC!”

good? Only a dear friend dare point out
and ridicule our faults. Even such a one

henry stevenson, ’ 21 . would hesitate to risk shattering- the fragile

“The question before the house is not— casket of friendship and destroying its fra-
‘Who called this piccolo player a big grant contents of sweet intimacy. Now, the
cheese?’; but, ‘Who called this big cheese a critic, by indicating to the actor wherein

piccolo player?’” Actors' his performance is poor and telling the.au-
and audience do not dience when its taste is bad, proves himself
always make such fine a good friend to both. Adverse criticism is
distinctions in speaking not always destructive, as the unthinking
of the Dramatic Critic; commonly believe; but is more often con-
but, with magnificent structive, for criticism generally endeavors
disregard of the truth, to show how a thing might be improved,
they call him— anything. Censure is good for bad acting, and bad
An adverse appraisal is taste is the unpardonable sin.
wrath and condemna- Though apt references to fugues and
tion : the audience is up- schefzoes are doubtlessly impressive after
set because they have the manner of a prestidigitator drawing-
bee n .convicted of bad squirming rabbits from a dignified top-hat,
taste in liking something they should not extensive technical knowledge is not essen-
have liked ; frank avowal of all too ob- tial to a good critic. What he must have is
vious faults riles the disappointed per- common sense ; for this virtue is most often
former. In both cases, wounded vanity lacking in both performers and audience. A
spurs its victims to hysterical denunciation uian of ordinary intelligence and of some
of the critic, thereby proving rather ironi- familiarity with the arts knows why one
eally that the critic was right, for only an thing is bad and why another is good. Cer-
mtelligent man can gracefully accept honest tain standards of morals and good taste have
criticism. Very often an audience only been laboriously developed through the ages,
thinks it knows what it likes ; for man is a In so f ar as a performance measures up to
gregarious, animal, approving where others these standards — they are instinctive in
approve, condemning where others condemn, everybody and respond generously to careful
Tradition is another regrettable element in cultivation — it is good or bad. Honest
the psychology of an audience. Because a criticism mirrors faults and virtues alike,
thing is old, it must be good. Wine im- yet an -honest critic needs courage to
proves with age, but eggs do not. Before criticise unfavorably even the most wretched
crying “iconoclast,” be sure your tradition performance. Though he knows from ex-
is not an egg, but rare old wine: to spill perience the hurricane of counter-criticism
the latter would be in the nature of a sacri- bis review will stir up, he fearlessly pro-
lege; it is a matter of honest charity to nounces judgment. In this he is reminis-
destroy the former. - cent of a knight-errant, who went about do-

An audience feels itself convicted of /ing good without any hope of earthly reward
bad taste when the critic does not agree with and found his greatest glory in helping
it, and this feeling, of course, is not very people who not. only did not appreciate such
-gratifying to any one’s habitual satisfaction assistance but even resented Galahad’s well-
‘ with himself. Performers, on the other meant interference. Then, as now, disin-
hand, naturally are not delighted to see terested effort in another’s behalf was re-
their shortcomings, like the family wash, garded with suspicion. The vulgar hind
hung out to be laughed at by the passers-by. could see only that the gentle knight was a
No doubt it is more pleasant to go our disturbing element in his hum-drum exis-
various ways, smug in complacent medio- tence, that the other’s noble ideals were a
crity, than to have our cherished personal perpetual . reproach to his own sordid
illusions torn away and to see ourselves for standards. As a Launcelot faced danger
the first time as others see us; but— is it as unflinchingly in the cause; of truth— term

tsfie Norre Same Seholascie

35i

it quixotic if you will — the dramatic critic
fights, with all odds against him, the
bourgeois self-complacency . of hopeless
mediocrity.

. Call him what you will — the actor and the
audience have no truer, more courageous,
disinterested friend than the honest dram-
atic critic.

:

“THE SHAGGY UPPER LIP.”

M. JOSEPH TIERNEY, ’ 21 .

In the life of every normal' young man
there comes a time when the cultivation of
hirsute adornment is looked upon as being

both appropriate and de-
sirable. Usually this
harmless form of diver-
sion, comparable in its
inevitability and evanes-
cence to the crou p,
puppy-love and dime-
novels, dies a natural
death or wilts away
through lack of en-
couragement on the part
of parents or associates.
Nevertheless the process,
however speedy and sudden its termination,
affords a modicum of pride and pleasure to
the individual engaged in cuddling and
caressing the shoot in its embryonic stage
and a surfeit of discomfort and annoyance
to those who consider his common sense
otherwise a matter of gratification. The
ultimate cause of this maculine pastime,
especially obnoxious when engaged in by
adolescents, is as yet undetermined and will
in all probability remain so. As well may
‘one seek to know why some people are short
and others are tall. Hence any discussion of
the point may well be left a matter for the
speculation of others who are more patient
in the task and more easily satisfied with
the results of their labor.

The proximate steps through which the
idea evolves are more easily known. On
some dull day a chap stands before his mir-
ror, shirtless and lathered, with an Ever-,
ready poised for its diurnal duty. As often
happens he hesitates to gaze at the unshorn
visage and being in no great hurry he idly
speculates on Row thick or how thin, how

wiry or silky is this beard that demands such
constant attention. He winders how much
form of grassy growth would add or detract
from his facial beauty. He considers the
various forms this herbage might take.
Side-burns smack too much of domestics.
Beards have been brought into disrepute by
anarchists and bolshevists. There remains
then only the mustache. Well,* why not a
mustache? He rubs the lather agressively
just beneath the proboscis debating as to
just how long it would take. And then he
falls. Many, many times common sense has
won out in this mental battle but eventually
Luna gets her laugh. Not that she has any
monopoly on the mirth provoked by this
blunder. It is , only a matter of one,
two or three days at most, except in the
case of blond infants, before confidence
misplaced in hope of sympathy and cheer
or keenness of vision on the part of
some malevolent fellow results in much
undesirable attention being given this
extremely personal enterprise. With a great
amount of dogged humility and super-
natural perseverance a man may be able
to stand firm and unmoved by the torrent
of unmerciful jibes, uncharitable guffaws
and ill-natural threats of mayhem directed
against his pet by strangers, acquaintances,
friends and family. But when the time
comes around for the little dance held under
the auspices of the Pi Kappa girls which he
has arranged to attend with Mary he won-
ders just how she’ll like it. He has stayed
away from_the fairest of the fair for over a
week on the plea of illness and still mange-
cure, cocoanut-oil and herpicide have not
accomplished all that might be wished or
even expected in that length of time. He
feels sure that even if all the rest of the
world is mean enough to laugh" there will
always remain one person who will under-
stand his laudable ambition and be pleased
with its partial accomplishment. He has
probably never read Kipling 1 .

A casual look commonly styled the “once-
over” follows the ordinary salutation for you
must remember they haven’t seen each other
in a week. Mary’s eye catches — she looks
again. Then, assured that her eyes have not
deceived her, her lips slowly curling in bit-
ter scorn she sweetly advises him to go up

Noure 5ame Scholastic

35 2

stairs and apply “Dad’s razor” if he hopes
to dance with her that night. Utterly crest-
fallen he obeys and with regretful strokes
he ends the career of a cherished idol. .

This is the ordinary outcome of this line
of endeavor. There are some exceptions to be
sure just as there are some sensible women.
For instance when the law of diminishing
returns renders the cultivation of hair on
the head an unprofitable task a license
to till the face or any portion of it is gener-
ally granted as compensation. Or, one some-
times finds a man possessed of the courage
of his convictions whom nobody and nothing
can dissuade from driving on with the ruth-
lessness of a Napoleon until the labial shrub
blossoms out in the fullness of its predes-
tined maturity. Predestined in that it may
be of the eye-brow variety common among
lounge-lizards and assistant purchasing-
agents. Again it may incline towards the
picturesque type of handle-bars faintly sug-
gestive of the Tiber, the Rhone or the Rhine.
It may be converted into the weeping-willow
that teams up with butcher’s aprons, tropi-
cal turbans and monocles. And finally it
may even be the pseudo-military brush that
labels a man a commercial by occupation and
suburban by domain.

It is not too much to expect that the Blue

Law Boys will give the shaggy upper lip

their attention in the near future; to them

if to no other these thoughts may be of

value. _ — M. J. T., ’21.

"s

An Omen.

I saw a star fall down the sky,

A pale green shaft of light;.

I watched until ; it disappeared,

A silent message in the night.

The moon came up -behind a clump
Of trees beyond a shadowy "maze
Of field; the sound of night hung on —

The air, intangible as haze. ...

A life has flickered out ’twixt last v • '

The setting of the sun and this.

- , Moon-up. I . wonder if it shot . - . * ■

, As true as did this star, or missed
The mark, to fall astray — : ' ‘. V .

. To: fall astray along the way. • ;

" .. - - -j. V .-p" t y yy— t.-m. o. •

• THE CHARACTER OF PILATE.

RAYMOND M. MURCH, C. S. C., ’23.

“What is , truth?” The character of the
man who asked this question is epitomized
in these few words and in liis hasty de-
parture from the pres-
ence of Christ.* Pilate,
however, did not wish to
know the truth. Had he
known it, he would have
known himself also, and
such knowledge was not
compatible with his
office as Procurator of
Judaea. In addition to
this, Pilate boasted that
he was a skeptic. For
him truth was a mere
word, empty of meaning. Yet, empty and
weightless as it. was, it burdened his
conscience. Little wonder then that his
conscience cried out, “What is truth?” and a
pity it is that his depraved nature forced
him to leave the hall, ere the Christ could
answer him.

In studying the character of Dilate, one
of the first things to note is his pride. This
vice, the root of all others, was the main-
spring of his dilatory mode of action. Philo,
one ,of the historians of Pilate’s day, says
that he was haughty and conceited. In the
face of his conduct during the trial of Christ
this cannot be denied. He absolutely dis-
regarded the ecclesiastical trail of Jesus,
brushing it aside 'with a haughty “What ac-
cusation do you bring against this man?”
and a disdainful “Take him yourselves and
judge him according to your laws.” When
dealing with. the. Jews, Pilate’s pride was
overbearing. He had gained his position
over them partly because -of his hatred for
them and partly .because of his skill as a
politician. Nothing delighted him 1 more
than to humiliate Hebrews. How happy he
must have’ been when he rescinded the judg-
ment of the Sanhedrin, and when', his own
decision was confirmed by Herod. What -a
feeling of ’delight must have Jbeen his when
he pointed to the thorn-crowned Christ, say-
ing, “Behold j'mir King!”

Pride, ; however, was only the root of his
vices.’ Pilate was cruel. ‘ In every action
against the Jews,: he employed the utmost

'Sfie Nacre- 5ame Seholascie

ooo

severity. During the first few years of his
life as Procurator, he had quenched every
uprising in blood. Yet, Pilate was not cruel
by nature, Josephus tells us. His cruelty
seemed to be that of necessity. He was
dealing with a “perverse generation of vi-
pers,” and with them “action spoke louder
than words.” Pilate’s cruelty towards
Jesus, however, is the inexcusable because
- it was wanton. He permitted the scourging,
though he found “no fault in this just man,”
and he condemned him to. death in answer to
the caprice of the populace.

Doubly true in regard to Pilate is Shakes-
peare’s dictum: “Plenty and peace breed

cowards.” Pilate was a coward, feasting in
peace on the abundant resources of Rome,
and more than that, he was a slave of hu-
man respect. Instead of freeing the Man-
God when he found Him innocent, he hark-
ened to the loud clamor of the people. They
were calling to him for the death of their
Victim,' and he was about to snatch the
Christ from their hands. Unhappy was that
moment when Pilate first listened . to the
people. Had he acted with his accustomed
severity, he would have ordered his legion-
aires to disperse the rabble. But he heard
the name of Caesar and faltered. Caesar-
was his master, as he was theirs. What did
they have to say about Caesar? “You are
no friend of Caesar,” they cried, .and that
cry echoed in his vacillating heart. He
placed justice in the balance with his earthly
master and proved himself a coward. He
feared to offend the people lest in doing so
he should displease his prince. For Pilate
the judge } self was all-important and justice
was secondary. Very probably he would
lose his position, if Caesar ; heard that he had
freed a rebel-king, against the desires of the
people; and on the other hand, if he did con-
sent to their wishes, ; he would not. jeopard-
ize, his own position. - Again, his sense of
duty was all but dead, and xself-love was
rapidly quenching the few sparks that re-
mained. He was afraid of his own convic-
tions. He had openly declared that the ac-
cused was innocent, yet, he condemned Him
to death, thereby branding himself a coward
with the sign of the cross.

After he had proclaimed the innocence
of Christ, he tried to free Him on some

pretext rather than on the right of justice.
He sought to calm his conscience by sending
the Holy . Victim to Herod, and when Herod
refused a condemnation, Pilate was forced
to resort to some other expedient. There-
fore, he chastised the Prisoner in the hope
that the sight of a bleeding fellow-country-
man would melt the hearts of the Jews.
But they remained cold. Another, means
had to be contrived. Pilate, however, was
equal to the task. He could still free the
Man-God without embittering the people.
He sent to. the dungeons for the murderer
Barabbas. This last compromise was fatal.
Had Pilate, awaited an answer to his ques-
tion, . “What is truth?” all this would have
been- unnecessary. But now he withdrew
his decision of innocence and placed his
prisoner on a level with Barabbas. He
merely presented both of them to the people;
the latter now assumed the' role of judges.

Such was, in brief, one side of the charac-
ter of Pilate. But there are a few good
points in his character that are too fre-
quently overlooked. Pilate was a., clear-
visioned magistrate. He perceived in a mo-
ment that Jesus was the victim of a con-

. spiracy, and with all the power of his Weak
soul,, he sought to free Him. The only solace
that Christ received diming this part of His
Passion was the sympathetic reiteration of
His innocence from the lips of a Gentile.
More than that, Pilate persevered in his
desire to liberate his Prisoner, and he did
not yield to the Jews until they had called
down upon themselves the Blood of their
Victim. He was the only defender that
Christ had before that motley rabble. He
was the only one of that vast throng who :
understood even in a small degree the divine
silence of Jesus, , and had he known what
truth was, the civil trial of Christ Would
very probably have ended in some other
way.

THE DISCOVERY OF “HONEST JACK.”

KARL M. ARNDT, ’ 22 .

: “Wonder what time de tug’ll haul in from

Sandy Point, Jack?” spoke a newly hired
deckhand 'to his equally unsalted mate, as
the. two sat on the end of a dock with faces
to the brisk sea wind. .. / y

J acfc rubbed his eyes. “Don’t get the idea

354

Nosre 6ame eScholastfic?

that I’m running my head off to start work,
boy. Anyhow, wliat made you ]ook to the
sea for your living?”

“It’s a long one, but I’ll spin it if you
don’t mind. It’s some story.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, a week ago I wuz a night-guard in
a Philadelphia bank in de center of town —
de Second National, I tink it wuz called. I
had a fine job dere for seven years, an’ den
a wild bit of experience made me quit an’
turned me to the sea. .Well, a week ago de
president got a tip dat a bunch of crooks
wuz going to bust in on de place an’ swipe
all de cash. De guy what ’phoned said he
wuz de chief a’plice, and he wanted de presi-
dent to keep de soft pedal on it; see, he
didn’t want de safe-blowers to know he had
de dope on ’em. So he suggested dat he’d
send a car-load of blue-coats down an’ stick
’em in a room near de safe, so dey could
round de crooks up like a bunch o’ sheep,
and he’d get all de publicity stuff.”

“Don’t get in a hurry. Where did he get
the tip?”

“You’re some dummy. Wher’d he get de
tip? Well, where dey always get it — from
a dick. You see, dey had a whole army of
plain-clothes cops out after ‘Honest Jack,’
who is de worst tool-handler east o’ Chicago
when it comes to safes. He wuz de leader
of de gang; dat is why dey had all de secret
stuff.”

%

The ex-guard changed his position and
continued. " “Well, about five o’clock' along
comes a black car all loaded wid husky blue-
coats, armed like pirates. De president
showed ’em in like gentlemen, aldough dey
looked like plain, ordinary Micks, an’ he put
’em in his private office -wid his own Ban-
kers’ Club stogies, what are smoked only
by de Four-Hundred an’ — ”

“Eats with that stuff ! Do not forget you
are telling a story. Go on!” growled the
disturbed Jack.

“Well, he told de president to keep his
mouth shut— -dat is what' de chief copper
said; so de president walks out laughin’ up
his sleeve to tink of de good trick he wuz
workin’.on deny poor bums who wuz going to
swipe his institution. -Vy - . .

About six I wuz relieved and goes home
for supper. , I comes back at seven an’ starts

work, walkin’ round wid my hands on de
gats all de time. Den I hears a noise. Afore
I kin draw on ’em I am bound and gagged
on de floor. I looks up and sees nothing but
cops: dey had done it all. One guy stands
'over me an’ de rest go to de safe. Dey pull
tools from dere pockets, fill de cracks of de
safe wid juice — ”

“Wait, did you not say that those fellows
were policemen?”

“There you go— dumber than ever. That’s
what the boss figured when he let ’em in,
but I guess it wuz a sly frame-up. Anyhow,
dey took off dere coats, put ’em up against
de lock— I hears de click of coins and de
rattle of paper — a few hot, quick words —
an’ den I finds myself alone.”

Jack shifted himself to a more comfort-
able position and his head shook with a slow
deep laugh. “Gad, wouldn’t I give anything
for the loot those fellows had in their bags
when they left the place. I suppose they had
enough money to break Wall Street?”

“Did dey? Man, dey took every bit of
metal money in the place,- but not a speck of
paper was touched ; that wuz all on de floor.
Wise burglars, I say. I never heard de like
But dey got one piece that is worth more
than all de moneys in Philadelphia — that
■wuz — ”

“Say, boy, did they catch those fellows?”
“Can’t you wait till I’m. through? Catch
them? Yes, all but one, slick ‘Honest Jack,’
de leader of de bunch. When de president
saw how dey had pulled de ole flannel shirt
over his eyes he made such a rumpus dat
even de police got busy, an’ one by one dey
brought back de crooks an’ de loot, except
one guy wid de piece I wuz tellin’ you about
when you interrupted me. It .wuz de Blue
Star Diamond, what, as I says, is worth more
than all de money in Philadelphia. De fellow
who has it is ‘Honest Jack.’ ”

Then the tug drew. alongside the dock and
Jack arose, stretched himself, and walked-
toward it. Then he stopped short and faced
ex-bank guard. The latter was as pale and
rigid as a corpse, for he saw in the hand of
the ex-gard. The latter was as pale and
glittering form of. the Blue Star, Diamond.,
Jack boarded the tug and was off before
his late friend could, compose himself suffic-
iently to call the police.

'SfieNo'cre 5ame Scholastic

355

AN IDEA OF A UNIVERSITY.

CHARLES P. MOONEY, ’21.

Something is lacking* in the American
system of education. There are many prob-
lems* that the student is not sufficiently

equipped to cope with
when he receives per-
mission from a handful
of professors to add a
few letters after his
name. This deficiency in
his training* is due to his
instructors’ failure to
realize that culture con-
notes more than merely
a knowledge of lan-
guages, science and phi-
losophy. A familiarity
with these subjects, while adviseable, is
the best essential of the things that go
to make up the well polished gentleman.
Matters that the teachers regard as being
of ' only secondary importance are really
very necessary to the young man’s develop-
ment. Yet, .is is just this characteristic that
results from what the savant fails to im-
part to his charge that the average person
. looks for in the product of a university.
That quality which is missing is refinement.

One fault, the greatest perhaps, in our
scheme of education is a misconstrual of
purpose. The faculty believes the end is
reached when it turns out each year two or
three geniuses. Now, the idea of a genius
does not comport with that of ah individual
of quality. The true definition of the former
person is one who can pick his teeth at the
dinner-table and escape censure. Exter-
nally, at least he is as innocent of polish as a
bootlegger is a*" charity. Therefore, it should
be the end of college training to chip the
rough edges off the raw student rather than
to thrust upon the world a creature who at
all social events is, to use a military term,
forever stepping off on his right foot.

First of all, the student should be taught
how to eat with ease and grace. This is an
art of which we are all shamefully ignorant.
One day the pupils instruction should con-
sist of the manual of the salad fork, the
next, the utility of the saucer that goes with
his coffee cup, and so on until he has mas-

tered the use of every instrument. When
he can consume asparagus without imperil-
ing his tie and partake of the watermelon
without flooding his ears with the juice, he
should be' passed in this subject. The can-
didate for a degree should be forced to con-
sider it his major study.

Including in the training of the potential
gentleman is just that amount of foreign
language, necessary to read the programs
and the menu cards. When he can ask for
pate de foie gras without in return being-
served with spinach, he should be x credited
with having made sufficient progress. Par-
ticular stress in his literary training should
be laid upon the wording of invitations and
acceptances thereof.

Without a chair of small talk, or, as it
sometimes called, “parlour tricks,” a college
can hardly hope to succeed in its purpose. A
proficiency in this art cannot be valued too
highly. With most of us, this trait is in-
nate; with others, it must be acquired. We
have, notwithstanding, a multitude of beings
who have no other brand of speech. Given
a theme that is not trivial, they, immediately
grow dumb. However, even these people
who can talk of .things only of minor im-
portance are indeed fortunate. To anyone
contemplating* a social career the ability to
render lengthy discourses without saying
anything is indispensable. This subject
should be taught by an ex-senator or a re-
tired hostess from a metropolitan hotel, they
having had peculiar training in the science.
After the student has put in the required
time, he should be tested by a proceeding
that is the next thing to. an ordeal. He is
to locked in a parlour with females of dif-
ferent ages, ranging from seventeen to forty,
and' of varying degrees of pulchritude, etc.
he is a very, very nice young man, the
scholar is given a passing mark. But if
one of . the sirens remains blushingly silent
while the others denounce the lad, young
Cyril must return for summer school. -

Athletics should not be neglected in con-
sidering this ideal curriculum. The student
must be made to apply himself diligently to
those sports capable of developing the neck
and calves so that he will not feel any hu-
miliation while attired in a polo shirt and
golfing breeches. Since horse-back riding.

56

'She Moure 6ame Seholasde

fencing, and archery all conduce to a grace-
ful posture, he should be an active partici-
pation in these exercises.- In following-
athletics, it would be advisable for him to
eschew all violent exercises the nature of
which is binding upon certain muscles. This
condition would certainly aid the gentleman
during the process of pouring tea. To ex-
cell in this last art, muscular freedom is
essential, particularly in the case of those of
the wrist.

The foregoing does not comprise all that
must be added to the present educational
system before it may pretend to produce the
true gentleman of culture. Too ramified for
these pages would be any attempt to con-
sider all the means necessary to his develop-
ment. The few, however that have been
mentioned are most efficient. One, 'by earn-
est application having such a course, would
be powerless . to escape becoming an in-
dividual of quality. And this is true even
though his progenitors were hotel detectives.

Now, it might be asked what is the future
of the student who has no* fortune to rely
on after he has completed such a course as
is herein suggested? Many might say that
he cannot work since his training has not
fitted him for any commercial or industrial
branch of the world. In this they are wrong
for the ways of capitalizing his education
are uncountable. Any mid-western hotel
would pay him a fabulous salary just to
grace its lobby and mezzanine with his dis-
tinct presence. He certainly would make a
perfect floor-walker or captain of bell boys,
since dignity and poise are their greatest
requisites. Or if it comes to the worst, he
could realize a fairly comfortable living
coaching families of the nouveaux riches for
entrance into the gilded circle.

The Passing of Winter.

Although I clothe their sinful world in "white.
And bring them feasts of joy and cheer.

And bring them all the glad 7 New Year
These thoughtless, thankless, thankless earth-folk
take delight

When I, the best of seasons, fa.de from sight.

I’ll shed a tear— just one, then cease. to -weep:

It gathers more from nioorland nooks,

It swells the streamlets .and the brooks
In -sympathy ; and then with angry sweep
The wrathful rivers my revenge will reap. .

: -- ■' \* . - ’ v''* ■ - — j. v. ■'

A COUNTRY’S GRATITUDE.

HAROLD E. MCKEE, ’ 22 .

An armistice had been declared. The
Great War was ended and everywhere the
- people were celebrating the event. On a cot

in a small army hospital
in France a wounded
soldier, a lad of seven-
teen, lay sleeping. At
the foot of the cot stood
a nurse and a French
general. All was , quiet,
save for the shar p
breathing of the sleeping-
soldier. The general was
the first to speak.

“He is a brave young-
man and null be re-
warded with a decoration.”

“Poor boy ! he deserves much more than,
a decoration,” softly replied the nurse.

“That may be so, but a decoration is the
greatest honor that can come to any soldier.
But look, he is awaking.” The officer placed
a stool near the head of the cot and sat
down. “How are you this morning, my
boy?”

“Morning — -morning?” exclaimed the

wounded boy in a faint voice ; “it isn’t morn-
ing yet. It’s still dark — -everything’s dark —
I can’t see a thing — it’s night. Who are
you? Where am I?”

“You are in the hospital.”

“Hospital — hospital? what for? I’m not
sick; I’in all right. Why am I in a
hospital?” '

“You need li rest after your hard work.
It was wonderful the way you — ”

“Did I- — did I get that nest cleaned out?
“It was wonderful — ” ’

“Why am I here?”

“For a rest, my lad.”

“A -rest! I don’t need any rest. I’m not
tired. I’ve got to get up. There are some
more of those skulking snipers.”

“Never, mind the snipers, my son; they
have all been taken. The war is over.”
“Over!' the war over! Oh, I’ve just got
to get up. I’m not tired. Why— what —
what’s the matter? I can’t move my arms!”
“You must be. still, very still,” urged the
nurse, gently arranging the covers around
the wounded boy’s shoulders. - '

Noure §ame§ehoIascie

357

' “I don’t want to lie here; I want to get
up.”

“You must wait until the doctor comes.”
“Doctor? I don’t need any doctor. I want
to get up. Oh, why can’t I move my arms ?”
“You must not try to move your arms,
my boy.” The stern military voice of- the
general was tender now.

- “Why? Are you a doctor?”

“No, I am a (mere) general.”

“A general! — to see me?”

“Yes, I’ve come to. pay a visit to a brave
and noble lad on the morning of the great
victory.”

“Morning? Why do you say morning all
the time? It’s dark; I can’t see a thing.
General, would you please strike a light?
I would do it myself, but I can’t move my
arms.”

“I’m sorry, my lad, but a light would do
no good.”

“Oh .general !” whispered the nurse, and a
look of pain swept over her face.

“It would do no good? Why do you say
that, general? If you would strike a light
couldn’t 'I see you— It would do no good?
I wonder — can it be true? is it true? Oh,
tell me, is it true?”

“What true, my lad?”

“Am I — I — am I blind?”

“Yes, my lad you — ”

“Oh, please don’t! Please don’t!” implored
the nurse, and she. even presumed to put
her hand over the general’s mouth. .

“It’s true then that I’m — I’m blind?” and
the wounded boy struggled bravely to keep
back the sobs.

“ISfow be quiet until the doctor comes, and
everything will be all right.” There were
tears in the girl’s eyes.

“But I’m blind!”

“Pluck up my boy! You are a soldier,” —
but even the general’s voice was husky.

“I was a soldier, general. I’m blind now.”
• “Lad, you are still a soldier; and your
country will honor and decorate you because
you are a great hero.” ,

“I’m a hero! My country will honor me,
decorate me—”

“Yes, they will decorate you for your
bravery.” • . ... ■

“But what of my mother ?”

“They will honor her also.” .

“Is that all?” j

. “A decoration is the greatest honor that"
can come to a soldier.”

“I am all she has. I support her — now I
am blind. Why can’t T move my arms,
general?”

“Boy, they are — ”

“0 general! Don’t! Don’t!”

“Why do you always say that, nurse?
Tell me why I can’t move my arms? Why
are you crying, nurse?”

“You must not move. Lie very quiet,”
she begged as she knelt beside the cot.

“Nurse, fell me — what will my poor
mother do when I can’t take care of her.
Will my country see that she is — ?”

“I know they will, dear — but you must go
to sleep now and stop worrying. Just think
how happy your mother will be to see you.”
“But I am blind.”

“But she is your mother, dear.”

“Will my country take y are of her? Why
are you crying, nurse?”

: “Please don’t worry, little boy. Your
country will take good care of you and your
mother.”

“Will they buy her everything ’ that she
wants? Will they make her happy — as
happy as I would make her if I wasn’t — ?”
He broke into a sob.

“Yes, dear, they will buy her everything.”
“Will they honor her?”

“They will honor both of you for the rest
of your lives.”

“I -have a wonderful country — haven’t I,
nurse?”

3c

Two years had elapsed since the signing
of the armistice. People had quickly for-
gotten, the miseries and the frightfulness of
war. Except the parents whose sons lie be-
neath the little white crosses in France, all
had forgotten that there had ever been a
war— the world was again fast becoming
cold, mercenary, and heartless.

It was late in a cold afternoon of winter.
On the curb of a principal street in one of
the world’s large cities stood a frail and rag-
ged- boy. He was blind and two empty
sleeves were tucked into the pockets of his
tattered coat. The sharp wind had cut- his
face until it was, cracked and bleeding.
Beside him was a bare-headed, grey-haired '

Isfie Norre S>ame Scholastic

O r '

O0<

woman, with an old torn shawl drawn
tightly about her shoulders. She coughed
continually and trembled from the cold.
She 'had one arm around the waist of the
blind man; in the other hand, the knuckles
of which were blue and swollen, she clutched
a bundle of cheap pencils, which she was
trying to sell to the passers-by.

“Will you buy a pencil?” Her voice
faltered and she coughed. “Please, mister,
buy a pencil to help get something to eat for
my son and me. He was — ”

She was pleading with two men, one of
whom roughly pushed her aside as they
passed on.

“IPs a crime that such pests should be
allowed on the streets,” declared one of them.
“It’s a crime, a d owe right crime! It was
insulting the way that old hag thrust her
dirty old pencils in my face. Wasn’t that
fellow in a horrible condition? Blind and
both arms gone. Such repulsive creatures
shouldn’t be allowed in public at all. What
was that brass button or badge the fellow
had on his coat?”

“I couldn’t see it very distinctly,” replied
the other,” it was too dark. Probably a
medal of some sort.”

“A medal! what -could that fellow be doing
with a medal ? Hid you see what was on it ?”

“All I could make out were the words,
A country's gratitude. The .night is cer-
tainly going to be cold.”

— »o ■

DORMITORY DISMAY II.

My Moeris Chair. . .

Before my matriculation into the hallowed
halls of Notre Dame, I had thought that a
Morris Chair came with your Athletic ticket
or with the key to your room. But it was
not long before I learned that the tickets
cost ten dollars, the keys fifty cents,
and that instead of the soft yielding
cushions of an easy chair, which I expected
to find in my room, there was a soft
splintery pine relic of the BeesCees, with
which the University thoughtfully supplied
me.

From just what part of ..the globe they
managed to convey such a veritable antique
that would stand the strain of N. D. life
has always been a mystery to me. But-'af ter
studying English History ; for a while, I

learned of the torture room in the Tower of
London. Such an instrument of physical
torture would have been in its prime in
those days, but in modern civilization,
kitchen chairs should stay in the cuisine,
the seat of their family tree.

But experience is a good teacher and in
my case, it was also a calloused one. Upon
my return last year I decided to purchase a
chair that had Morris, instead of Pine, for
a given-name. The “Sign of the Three
Balls” was the “Marshall Fields” where I
passed my green rectangles over the coun-
ter, for the price of tapestry, to take the
place of splinters. True,, the Morris-Chair
was not one that anyone would wish to bor-
row when ( taking a picture of his room to
send to The Girl, to show off the “Movie”
bachelor apartments you reside in or one
that would leave an awful cloud of dust
after it in a race for a Blue Ribbon in a
Chippendale Exposition. The legs of this
model were shapely, but unsteady, the arms
unmatched, and neatly carved and scarred
by forgotten cigarette butts. The back was
tied in place with a few strands of steel
cable. The cushions — those squares of
rarest brocade, smooth as a piece of cut-
glass and as soft as an iceberg, with a color
that rivaled that of a debutante of the Civil
War — have been the seat of all my knowl-
edge. Still this old broken down and shakey
bit of equipage is an . essential part of my
room. Without it T would be at a loss to
find some suitable place for Warren G. to
sit when he holds his cabinet meetings in
my humble rectangle.

After my heavy correspondence for the
day is mailed and the cares of the world are
shifted to those living in China, I am able
to enjoy the comforts that this pile of junk
can give me. With my battered lamp on
the one varnished arm of the chair, “Sar-
tor Rosartus” on my lap (just as a devia-
tion from the heavy reading of the day),
and with the room impregnated with the
thick vapors from “Samson,” my pipe, I
dream of the years to come and how much
I can sell the chair for, to some Freshman
next year.

.. —EMT.IETT F. J. BURKE, ’22

An inch of: ears makes a great difference.

Tsfie Nacre 5ame Seholascie

359

MADAME, A LETTER. arrival, and expectation prohibits - the

vincent engles, ’ 23 . descent of the gods to earth. For two thou-

Resting in the darkest corner of my trunk sand years, J erusalem waited for the
and bound with an elastic band is a pile of . Saviour; the Saviour came; but Jerusalem
letters, white yellow and pink, but mostly a did not recognize him for expectation had

dusty grey. In various painted a different Christ. So with the let--
other places which I call ter-writer. He cannot anticipate the day.
mine, are other piles, He must be sitting in a leathered chair, or
and some contain only a on a trunk in an attic, « and .thinking of ab-
few letters, and others solutely nothing. Then, and under such
are composed of a great conditions, the day may come to him, and
many ; but all are touch- half asleep, and all-dream, he will write to
ing to the eyes, and all an old, old, friend.

smell of incense. There But while the advent of “der tag” can-
is the fragrance of a ' not be noted in an almanac, there are climes
withered blossom long and times which are favorable to its appear-
pressed between two anee, and likewise conditions which forbid
sonnets in a volume of it. Thus in the soft haze of June, one is
Spenser. As one senses the subtle redolence, apt to write in very silly fashion, and
the dew of the soul slips to the trembling murmur of everything from violets and
lash, and like the flower the letters seem daffodils to Psyche and Eden. The re-
freshened by the tear. The tear’ is justi- suit is sure to be babble. Sweet roll-
fiable, and does not connote sentimentality; ing August generally inspires the scrawling
for by ancient right old joys make new and of a freckled postcard, and the Decem-
sweet sadness, and old sorrows bring today ber endeavor may smack of hearty cheer
a smile. And here we have' old joys a-plenty and Christmas candles; that is, if one’s
for the scanning, and old sorrows, too. The radiator is in radiating condition. Other r
initial thrill at sight of the envelope may be vase the note will be a short one to
reproduced; a pretence made at slitting the the folks, and the police will find it on the
side; the sheet withdrawn and read again, river bank.

with just as many chuckles at the wit, with The day is likely to come when clouds
just as many frowns at the severe, with hang black above the church steeple, and the
just as many sighs at the sad, as were ex- rain hammers steadily .upon the tin roof,
perienced on the first impressive reading. You drag yourself to the window, and press
They are perfect letters — every one of them, your nose against the glass. The trees out-
For as I read, I sense the author’s mood, side are bowing, and sixty one muddy
and know that he was writing on a perfect streamlets carve valleys on the proud sur-
letter day. Such days, though everyone has face of your yard. A store-bound ad-
found them, are rare, and occur but once or venturer scoots by,, the tail of his oilskin
twice a year. Even then, we are sure to flapping rebelliously as he waves a dripping
miss them if not in the blessed .mood, and hand to your nose at the window. All the
reject the opportunity in order to read the world is wet, but you are safe, and can en-
morning’s paper. Unhappy ignoramus, who joy the beauty of the storm, without feeling-
let that day go by, unconscious of its value! the raindrops trickle down your spine.
Your whole life will witness but forty or Your very security brings contentment,
fifty such, and may you suffer in Purgatory Then, happy is the man who fnids himself
for neglecting them. at leisure on such a day, but happier he who

There is no forecasting the appearance is inspired in his leisure. For, and his sleep
of this rara avis; it has no periodic recur- be undisturbed the night before, the mood
rence connected with the return of a comet, of the day will come upon him, and between
or the flight of birds, or the ebb and flow the . thunderclaps he will communicate a
of politics. The patient watcher is always blessedness to others, from the peace of his
disappointed ; for he is always expecting its own heart.

;6o

^fie Norre c)ame §eholascic

ON SMOKING.
h’ W. FLANNERY, ’ 23 .

At least once every month I am newly
convinced that smoking is a very bad habit.
I have read how the terrible weed “arrests

oxidation of the living-
tissues, and thus checks
t’h e i r disintegration/’
how it impairs growth,
causes physical degrada-
tion, a constriction and
dilatation of the blood
vessels, and generally
prepares a man for a
rest in quiet cerements.
And I have agreed with
.it all. Once every little
while, a professor in one
of my classes harangues on the evils of
nicotiana tobacum and I agree with him, too,
that tobacco is a horrible thing. I could
even deliver a convincing lecture on the
terribleness of it all myself, but, neverthe-
less, I like to smoke. I suppose I shall ruin
my digestion, cause mvstelf to breathe like
an engine belching steam, and have my.
blood vessels so constricted and dilated that
the blood will .believe itself on a roller
coaster as it • travels the cycle from the
left ventricle to the right auricle,, but, as a
little stanza I once heard ran: “I like it .”
And I suppose I shall continue to smoke until
I die at ninety-three. That stanza — of, perhaps
it is worthy of being called a poem — was a
pretty little effusion in its way. It began with
the simple statement that “Tobacco is a dirty
weed,” added “It satisfies no normal need,”
and so on until “It’s the worst darn stuff
I ever seen,” with interjections after each line
of the three words “I like it.”

Perhaps I should -be of a different opinion
anent tobacco if I had been careless and be-
come sick during my first smoke. But I took
only two or three puffs that first time — puffs
from a cigar of my father which was lying on
his cigar stand. I carefully replaced the thing
immediately after the essay and waited several
more days for several more puffs.

-Of course tobacco is an evil. /Even the most
radical smoker must concede that. In addition
to its oft-mentioned nefariousness I can add a
new one; it is one in which the evil consequences

are quicker than in any other and has to do
with celluloid eyeshades, for, wearing one I
once tried to light . an obstinate cigar and
vainly puffing, lit the shade instead of the
recalcitrant cigar. The lazy shade rested on
my nose as it shot tongues of fire to lap the
ceiling. No doubt the blaze was very pretty
and would have been .much admired on a
Fourth of July, but since my eye lids, eye brows,
and hair, were joining in the impetuous cele-
bration, I could not well appreciate the beauty,
and, cynic that I was, did my best to end it.

• For weeks my nose and forehead gave publicity
to this - new-found viciousness of tobacco.

But I did not quit smoking. I resolved,
instead, to always push the shade back where
it could not flirt with the match. But I have
quit smoking. I used to. quit forever but lately
I have quit but temporarily. The results are
the same. Once I did not smoke for a month
and a half. That was two years ago, and is
my record so far.

I know tobacco is a pleasant thing. A big
morris chair, a log fire, a cold winter evening
outside where the winds blow blasts, a good
book or a companion that is an interesting
. conversationalist, and a cigar. -That is my
picture of a terrestrial paradise. It is a thou-
sand times better than the paradise of Omar
Kayham; a book of verses underneath the
bough, a loaf of bread— and Thou beside me
singing in the wilderness.

Tobacco has its mundane excellence, too.
It, is a wonderful disperser of the toothache.
Every now and then an overzealous cigar
exchanges the pain of my molar for a new pain
of the stomach because of some peregrinating
saliva, but such occasions are excusable, and
applying the lines in Lancelot and Elaine,
that “he is all fault who has no fault at all; . . .
the low sun makes the color,” I must think the
more of the weed because it is like it were
human and is not “faultlessly faultless, icily
regular, splendidly null, dead_ perfection, no
more.” If to have faults is a virtue, tobacco,
then, is truly a worthy thing, a saintly thing.

But of the' family of tobacco I could not sing
an all embracing alleluia. I could not sincerely
laud the -cigarette, for to me it tastes as nothing
: at all. It is as a sardine to a whale’s dinner,
if whales eat fish’, as I suppose they do. A
. pipe, too, is not to be much praised by me, for
it is usually too strong and bitter. ’Tis rarely
a pleasure to smoke one. It is therefore with

A-

\

Nocre £)ame Seholascie

361

passionate eclat that I join hands with the
bachelor soul of Kipling who sings to the cigar:
“A harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in a
string!

Counsellors cunning and silent — comforters
true and tried, v

And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival
bride.

Thought in the early morning, solace in time
of woes,

Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my
eyelids close —

This will the fifty give me, asking naught in
return

With only a suttee’s passion — to do their
duty and burn.”

And, as I usually do, I will smoke its sweet
nicotine to the bitter end, bitter to think I
can’t continue to- hold the ultimate half-inch
stub between my caressing lips. •

' . AVAUNT, THOU POET!

EDWARD B. DeGREE, ’23.

It is our object to consider a most mo-
mentous question : Should the college

student be compelled to study poetry? First
of all, before delving into the minute in-
tricacies of this vast and ' awn inspiring-
subject, it would be no more than propitious
or fitting that we grasp, the true significance
of that evasive, deceptive, abstruse and oft
misleading term “poetry.” By the powers
that were, ever since time immemorial,
-poetry has been considered a pet literary
hobby.. 'It has been said time and time again
with profound respect and reverence that
rythmical discourse is the means used by the
masters of our language to convey the high-
est thoughts and ideas to the common rabble,
the hoi polloi, the heathen hordes, so to
speak. •

We have accepted this delusion as it was
handed down to us by our ancestors without
even subjecting it to more than a superficial
investigation. The same holds true of the
other contemporary so-called fine arts;
music for example. Because a man is said
to be extraordinarily proficient in one of the
branches of music is no reason why we
should- think the same When we see him
fiddling away and pervading the profane, at-
mosphere with ungodly harmonics, or

clamorously giving vent to howls that would
cause the Baskerville hound to retreat to his
kennel in consternation abashed at his ac-
coustical presumptions ; once a coal
shoveller, never a violinist.

Likewise a man who is not capable of
speaking in that wonderful, sublime, god-
given means of expression, prose, can not
expect to turn tail and manufacture yards
and yards of verse and rely upon poetic
license and all the other execrable immuni-
ties that enshroud every aspect of poetry to
protect and cover his base deficiencies from
the -glaring scrutiny of literary criticism.
This poetic faith is now developing into the
later stages of an obsession and the pre-
valent opinion is that a mere man is not
capable of intelligently criticising poetry.
It is true that the common trend of poetry
is incapable of criticism, but that is not due
to the commonsense critic; it is the imprac-
ticable, two hundred horse power, hit and
miss imagination of the imbecile dressed in
poet’s clothing. It is easy enough to scrawl
off promiscuously lines and lines of verse
which may mean something but which
usually do not. In short, it is possible to
clothe 'words with a mystic suggestiveness
by the use of unprecedented ambiguity. The
poem itself is pure bunkum ; it is an opiate
to the brain and if administered regularly
-will in a short time have one’s thinking ap-
paratus. on the run and functioning 5
irregularly. -

The only real idea one gets out of poetry
is that, of disgust for reading as much of it
as he has. From the rock bound coasts of
Maine to the golden gates of San Francisco,
from the bootlegging Canadian border on
the north to the placid waters of the gulf
of Mexico, on the south, the employment of
prose to express our thoughts and ideas has
not been surpassed or equalled by ;poetry or
any of its inane ramifications, and gentle-
men, we have read them all.

Here at Notre Dame the average student
has come to expose his hitherto invulnerable
intellect to the persuasive rhetoric of the
multifarious professors -with a view to ab-
sorbing a liberal education. ;We claim he
should not be compelled to study poetry,
thereby converting a perfectly good head
into a storehouse for j unk which will .never-

Hotre 5ame Scholastic

362

avail him the opportunity of earning the
proverbial bean sandwitch when he makes
his debut in this cruel and heartless world.

WHERE THERE’S HAIR THERE’S
HOPE.

EDWIN W. MURPHY, ’23.

It is an odd thing That in all the dingy
despond of character photography and bio-
graphical bombast tolerated in the name of
Dante, nowhere, not even in the narrowest

footnote, has anybody
ever thought to mention
what sort of hair-tonic
he used. Which, with
the fact that nobody has
ever even mentioned
what color his hair pos-
sessed, leads to the
question of whether
Dante had any hair at
all worth mentioning.
On the matter of the
Poet’s baldness there is
much dispute but the astonishing thing is
that such an v obvious discrepancy., should
have gone down the centuries unoticed
by all Ms interpreters. It is among the pro-
foundest perplexities of the historian, and
throws suspicion on many events of Dante’s
, lifetime. The popular notion which cannot
comprehend how such an apparently in-
- significant circumstances can have any bear-
ing on the complex issues of the period,
would naturally deprecate the importance of
so simple a matter as Dante’s hair. But
there is just the fallacy, for a clear under-
standing of anything lies not in its com-
plexity but in its simplicity. ' If the
chroniclers of that day had not the wit to
remember so important and apparent a de-
tail how are we to trust them in other more
obscure matters? And it is important. Had
Catherine of Aragon been a blonde, pos-
sibly the Reformation might have been
averted. And were Dante known for the
baldheaded bard, there might never have
come into tradition that dog-eared legend
about long-haired poets.

The explanation of such a historical flaw
is illogical; therefore it is : psychological.
Dante’s biographers omitted mention of his

hair probably because they did not think of
it, or at least because they did not think
of.it as worth while. Perhaps they did not
even know whether he had any hair, for
when a man writes a book about another it
is not because he knows him but because he
knows about him, and the nature of a man’s
hair is the least the writer usually knows
about a man. .Mere hair plays a very notice-
able part in some phase of everyone’s life.

Most distinctly noticeable is the presence
of mere hair in the soup plate; but quite as
noticeable is its absence on the bald pate.
For me there is more food for philosophy on
the bald poll than there generally is to be
found in it — particularly in the one I have in
mind. Its possessor, one of my 67 room-
mates, showed up at the supper-table one
evening completely lacking his accustomed
thatcli and naturally the sight of his bald
expanse evoked many ribald remarks. After
the first high wave of wit subsided, every-
body was seized with an" instinctive desire
to fondle the barbed bumps of that nude
cranium. Being of necessity philosophi-
cally inclined at meal-time, I pondered over
the incident at leisure, throughout the re-
past. At length, an illustration resorted to
in philosophy entered my thought. The con-
cept of a baseball for a baby, I mused, sug-
gests, something to ’bounce or roll. And it
seems the idea of a bald head for collegians
must also suggest something to bounce if
' not to roll.

The stark novelty of the roots of my
room-mate’s hair for some reason fascinated
me strangely. It is so seldom one sees a
man who voluntarily has his head shaved,
that the view -of the glistening scalp rivetted
my attention. But why the novelty? The
style for wearing hair is the merest of con-
ventions. But the merest of conventions
(even the merest of political conventions)
must be more powerful than the law. Were
it not so men might be shaving their scalps
as well as their chins. Not so long ago a
bald face was quite as rare as a bald head is
now. Perhaps the advent of the safety
razor has instituted the. change.

In the matter of customs in hair there is
hardly to be found anything so exotic. A
.century ago men used to wear powdered hair
with , shiny, red noses. .. Today they wear

I

Tsfie Nocre cbame Seholascie

shiny hair with powdered (rarely red)
noses. Long hair during the middle ages
was the badge of birth and distinction, and
while the distinction still remains there is
in this age no more galling penance than
for a man to let his hair grow long unless
it be for a woman to cut her hair 'short.
There is however a certain group of poli-
tical theorists and others known .by their
short-haired women and long-haired men.
But the kitten coquetry of the short-haired
vamps of this day are not to be compared
with the wildcats among Roman women.

Cicero relates how the ladies of his time
followed the fad of raising beards. Every-
thing from cosmetics to snake-charmers was
employed by the coy maidens and obese
matrons of the Avantine to cultivate whis-
kers. Finally when the fad assumed the pro-
portions of a horrible fact, the Senate was
impelled to pass a law against hirsute ap-
pendage for females. But not before the
pinkest complexions of the City were sprout-
ing, and that rosy skin one loves to touch
had commenced to grow thorns. It would
appear, according to Suidas that the women
of Athens originated the fashion by intro-
ducing the use of false beards. So wide-
spread did this style become that even the
Cyprian Venus on view at the British
Museum is decked out in whiskers. .Fortun-
ately in our day feminine side-burns are
confined solely to side-shows and it is a dis-
tant decade when our women will con-
template abandoning the . lip-stick for the
shaving-stick.

But while our own customs are hardly
quite so insane, nevertheless, they by no
means are not insane. As an instance, we
furnish surgical attention at free clinics for
the individual deformed by a hair-lip,
whereas the ultra youth defaced by a hairy
lip is allowed to wander at large without a
license. In the centuries to come it is not
improbable that the museums of posterity
will label these labial appendages under the
‘class of handy handkerchiefs, or ever-ready
toothbrushes, never knowing the real pur-
pose they serve in courtship.

In courtship many a man has lost a wife
by a hair’s length, as in war many a man
has lost his life by a hair’s breadth. But
in poetry long hair is remarkably signifi-
cant, especially if it be curly. But even with

363

such mental excelsior a man would be better
qualified to style himself a poet if he pos-
sessed dark or black hair, and a wide poetic
reputation. According to Juxley, red and
yellow hair rarely accompanies genius. The
light haired individual is doomed by the law
of averages to be both harmless and hope-
less. Not only can he have little hope of
becoming famous, but he need have. Tittle
fear of becoming infamous. Havelock Ellis,
an author and alleged authority, concludes:
“the proportion of dark-haired persons :ds
considerably greater among crhninals|thdn
among ordinary populations.” But itfis- a
fact that light-haired individuals are not
necessarily light-headed. ;

To give only a few of the aSHMiieele-
brit’es and others with black hair punctuat-
ing the book of fame, there is John Paul
.Jones, Sir Thomas Moore, Ibsen, Charles
Lamb, Daniel Webster, and Pio ,Mcntene-
gro. Browning, Landor, Napoleon, R. Lr
Stevenson, Grant, Tennyson, Keats, CromT
•well and Washington all had dark hair, al-
though Washington is generally portrayed
with gray hair when he chopped down- the
cheery tree. The few blond geniuses .and
gentry of blond persuasion are Thackeray,
John Bunyon, Andrew Jackson, Swinburne,
and Krippene. Among those suspected of
being bald are Vincent Engels and Dante.
But what is a man going to do about it?

FLUMINA VITAE.

•pACH life is like a river: ' '

God is the source. .. _

His grace, a heavenly charge.

Is the rain that showers forever.

His law, the marge’

That holds it in its course.

Some wind on tranquilly
Through the busy vale;

Some in their fury leap .

Over the rocks on high;

And others sleep
In the stillness of the dale.

Pure and limpid streams
With His sunlight play;

And troubled waters flow ' '

Reflecting all His beams ; ;

While the murky go

Heavily on their way. • .

And when man’s life is e’er
Again he’ll be, ^

Like to the mighty river
Passing the eternal shore, :

Lost there forever
In God’s immensity. — R. ar. at.

364

.. Notre Same Scholastic

SHADES OF NIGHT.

AAEON H. HUGNENARD, ’ 22 .

A sleet storm of early March fiercely at-
tacked the pedestrian. The wind shrieked,
and it was altogether a most wretched night.

At the Cowl Club the
members were gathered
snugly around the huge
fireplace in the lounging
room. A few dozed;
others were reading. The
storm grew in intensity,
and then a sudden hurri-
cane swept down the
chimney. The fl a m e s

• leaped out of the fire-
place like fiery tongues
and shadows flickered on

the wall in grotesque forms.

“If Richard Harding Davis had witnessed
this night, he wouldn’t have given his Tn
The Fog’ an English setting,” observed one
of the loungers, aroused by the violence of
the storm. “Perhaps a London night fur-
nishes a romantic background for a matter,
of mystery, but a March storm in this tem-
perate zone of ours is simply incomparable.”

Thus the conversation which had sub-
sided some time before, was revived. The

*

few who had been reading laid aside their
books. “It certainty would be an ideal night
for some thunderin’ thrillers,” continued
someone; “who’ll volunteer?” — It was then
that Roy Morgan told this story.

“ ‘Twas back in ’20 when I was in my
senior year at Notre Dame that I developed
the craze for stories of mystery; I fairly
lived on them. I read them before break-
fast and after supper and between times;
I read them in class and out of class and all
the time. The fellows in Sorin Hall got to
calling me, ‘Loupgarou.’ Ghosts, spectres,
apparitions, wraiths, spooks — I had a niania
- for-them.

“I started in with Poe. Then somebody
gave me Ambrose Bierce’s ‘The Damned
Thing.’ From him I went to Mary E. Wil-

grew rapidly. When I finished Maupassant’s
‘Le Horla,’ I decided that here was the su-
preme story. I was advised, however, to
reserve my judgment until I had become ac-
quainted with Fitzjames O’Brien and his
story, ‘What Was It?’ Well,

On a night when

Horses did neigh, and dying men did
.groan.

And ghosts did shriek and squeal about
the streets,

I read ‘What Was It?’ It was an ideal time
to read about ghosts. An early spring storm
had hit Notre Dame. The 'winds, gathering
high momentum off Lake Michigan, shrieked
in the heavens like souls in distress. - Rain
poured in sheets. The windows of Old
Sorin rattled incessantly and the elements
battled fiercely without. I remember going
to sleep in a study of the similarity between
‘Le Horla’ and ‘What Was It?’

“There was darkness, and a distant bell
tolled twice ! Then, a crash of thunder, a
pouring of rain! Am I awake? That wind —
whose sorrowful message is it carrying?
An uprooted tree crushed to the ground.
Another blast— 0 Lord, what a pitiful moan !
That tapping — what is it? Am I imagining
things? Am I dreaming? No, these are
certainly not the vagaries of a disordered
mind. That tapping — there it is again!
It’s the -wind, — it cannot be!

“I try to move — but my feet seem filled
with lead ; my legs are as big around as
barrels. I try to raise my arm: there is

no feeling in it — its life is gone. Again the
tapping! My eyes grope through the dark-
ness toward the window. What is that
thing? That thing? A wraith! A ghost! —
In the next flash of lightning a face appears
above a shadow. Thoughts of the end of the
world crowd my mind. I know I am not
sleeping now. I hide my head beneath the
covers.

“Those words of Shakespeare about ghosts
gibbering and squawking in the streets of-
Rome echo in my ears — ‘The Ides of March
are come but not yet gone!’ What holds

kins Freeman. Marion 1 Crawford was next, me? A clammy sweat breaks out upon me
I must have read ‘Through The Porthole’ a as I think of ‘The Damned thing’ and ‘What
dozen times, and the more I read it, the more Was It?’ Curse Bierce, and O’Brien, and
it fixed its fascination upon me. My ac- "Maupassant!— -‘No, they were/ only pitiful
quaintance with authors of the inexplicable fools, dope "fiends, men with disorderly

Hotre 6ame Scholastic

365

minds, who wrote down the fancies of crazy silence of a year. Pictures of fair maidens
_ men. There are no ghosts. That tapping drop from the incoming mail even as
was the 'wind beating on the window panes, they come to the editor of the Tribune
That face was only an hallucination. I have beauty contest; and fearing complications
been dreaming! Tomorrow, I’ll burn every you spend the Easter vacation in Chicago
cursed story that I have.’ And finally I instead of going home,
slept, as the storm quieted down. And they tell you that they admire your

“The next day a classmate, Bob Owens, ambition and want to read your stories;
came dashing into my room, with hair dis- and hint at those mysterious things which
heveled and a murderous look on his face, they might .say if you were not so brilliant
‘I’m suspended,” he yelled, ‘I’m sus- of mind.

pended, — and all on your account. Why And they think you fall for it — which you
didn’t you leave your window open as you do!

promised? I told you I was going to over- And you sit down and write 2000 words of
stay my twelve-o’clock permission. I rapped advice to the innocent young goslings— the
on your window till my knuckles were sweet little things— they don’t dance or eat
blistered,, and then I had to sign, up.’ ” candy during Lent — the purest gift of heaven

, to man, — the most delectable bits of rarified

femininity — lots of phrases like that which
ON BEING AMBITIOUS. might mean anything, but sound good.

frank Wallace, ’23. And you really mean it — and mean it for a

_ , . . different girl every night. And, 0 Boy! How

Caesar was ambitious many times w you

and you know what he “And I have a swell little canoe on the old

# (( Ohio; and this summer' we are going to use it.

Soothsayer ., Be- j have always longed for a wonderful- pal just
ware the Iaes of March, Kke y 0U — w } 10 i 0V es to swim and to dance and
Cfesar. ^ all that sort of thing but who can still be im-

Caesar: Can that p ersona i — just good friends etc, etc, etc.”

bunk; I , guess I know And you know darned well you’ll be quarrel-
mv stuff. ling before, you are home a week.

S 0 11 11 d of m any And then after having performed your even-
np-p-p-ps, i n g r ites at the shrine of the Kewpie and re-

And then a little later Keyed yourself of all the bunk; after you have
Mark Antony became serV ed your hours in the cafeteria- or prefecting
came the man of the half hour; because at j n the library or chasing towels for Roekne
6.31 Cleopatra put on her little -act, the in the gym or secretarying for a prof or manu-
people’s candidate lost his ambition — and facturing a sport story for the News-Times —
you know what he got. after having done all of these things — you

And we all know what happens to the i 00 k at the Ontology, or the math, or the
prophet in his own land; whether he claims accounting — and discover that your eyes hurt
to be a writer, essays the oration or even too much tonight, or that you need sleep
attempts musical criticism-^— you know what worse than the study; then after having read
he gets. the daily chapter of “This Side of Paradise”

—Well, its the old, old story: You are a or the latest review of the Campus Critic, or

nonentity among the home folks until you the Juggler— after having done all of these
leave the home folks. But when flowering things and finding nothing else to do — you
praise showers into the home town press, think.

they knew you had it in you all the time. And you think that if there is nothing to
And little fairies speak to one another at this education you are certainly getting fooled,
the dances o fhaving heard from Harry or First Concept: “All is still tonight by the
Vincent; and you begin to receive stationery old library; and ’tis Sunday at the vesper hour,
of the passionate pink variety. And lo ! Will you go to town to-night? And the echo
The best girl writes you after a strange answers ‘No!’ There are the slight matters

TsVie Noire c)ame Scholastic

366

of prefects and demerits and discipline — and
anyliow — tlie girl you did know in town is
enamored of a Corby Haller who spent the
summer vacation here; the one from ‘Misha-
wak ’ who promised so much — shucks! Wanted
a ‘foursome’ to declare her girl friend in on the
•party — old stuff.”

Second Concept: “Remember, 0 remem-
ber, the place where you were born? Where
you knew all of the girls and considered the
week as made up of six evenings to dance and
one to call on the best girl. The days — I will
not stop — those days when it was a new girl
for every dance? When you never considered
‘Shall I go’ but simply ‘Am I on the day shift?’
And those evenings beside the gas-log fire in
the big house which resembled a high school
building — when you had the little fairy gaping
with open countenance — mostly around the.
mouth — with tales about when you would go
to college? Do you remember, 0 remember?
Wel-1-1, Jack Dalton, you are here. You were
ambitious — and see what you got. Ha, Ha,
Ha, — see — I laugh, or possibly I should say,

I lawf.”

Then you sit back and cuss awhile — unless,
of course, you happen to be a prefect with
authority to investigate the Yellow Peril.
Then you may go to town, looking for skivers
and forget to look in the mirror at the Oriental
jazz parlor. ^

First Gloom: “How was the stew to-night?
SIR! You forget I am a lady!”

Second Gloom: “Do you remember, 0,
remember the place where you were born?
The rich juicy steak and the brown gravy,
and the fresh bread, and the cream potatoes
and the lima beans and the devil’s food, and
the raspberry pie?' Those days when your
mother said “Why don’t you eat some more?”
And then after the evening meal when you
would slip over to the corner drug store and
get a quart of ice cream and a pocket of smokes
— ah! How I love to see you suffer — and you
curled up into the hammock or drifted down
stream in a canoe? Well, do I make myself
clear? You were ambitious you wanted college.
College speak up!

(A deep raucous voice off stage.) '“Lafayette
I am here.” ;,,;. ,

It is now.ah hour after the evening meal:
so feeling hungry, you go over to the Caf,
order toast, and buy an El Verso.. You

also thoughfully purchase a pack of Bee-
man’s pepsin gum because you know the
cigar will make you sick. Then you come
back to your room in Brownson for a wild
evening.

FIRST PALLBEARER: . “Do you re-
member, 0 remember the place where you
were bom or do the associations inspired
by your latest introspection recall those
times when you were the foreman of 23 of
the best and noblest specimens of humanity
who ever swung a pair of tongs or sunk a
shovel? All! Verily, my dear Monte-
spierre, them were those days. -When Mike
used to call you Mister Boss, and Tony re-
moved his hat when he saw you on the
street, and Sabo Gabo always remembered

to bring an extra stogie to 'the mill But that

/

was tame: there was no future to the work;
while you worked hard through the long
watches of the night trying to find the soft-
est place to sleep, you dreamed, and talked
and talked and talked of college. No! You
didn’t' like the steel mill — so you came to
college and washed dishes for Balenes Bros.
You were ambitious; you wanted college;
here is college; speak to her. No? College
speak to your lover.

COLLEGE: (played by a co-ed) “Kiss

me, kid.” . . ;

Then you rise in your . wrath and cry:

“Imps of the devil, why do you pur- 4
sue me?”

IMPS : (played by 1 Nop Berra, Steven-

son and Wm. A. A. Castellini) “Heck! If
you are going to get sore, we won’t play no
more.” * ■

Think I am crazy? Well, after consider-
ing some of the poems I have had to learn,
and some of the lectures I have heard, and
some of the things I have to eat, and' some
of the people I must put up with, I wouldn’t
be surprised. But anyhow, . I must be smart
to get along. at all as dumb as I am; are
you? Or don’t you think?

•As for the rest— there isn’t any more.
My 1200 words have done.

_ .* - —

Merit is truest when it shuns praise.

Judging from the newspapers, there is
much more of loyalty between the dog and /
his master, than between man and wife. .

v

Isfie Noure 6ame Scholastic

'fotpePam^^holastic

— * V..Kj

DISCE- QUASI- SE/'\PER- VICTVRUS ---VI V£ • QUASI- CRAS-MOR1TVRVS

Entered as Second-Class Mail Mailer.

' Perhaps they will never find the lake with
the trout in it„ but they will carry beautiful
memories of the day in the woods and on
the water.

Memories should be a source of happiness,
and they are — if they are good memories.

Published every Saturday during the School Term at the
UNIVERSITY OF NOTRE DAME.

— W. G. .

== == ===== - = = ■■ = = Once upon a time, a king became curious

vol. liv. march 26, 1921. no. 21. to hear the loudest noise imaginable. So,

— - ■ == === he called together all the people of his

A man, emerging from childhood might _ kingdom, and bade them.

be likened to a traveller on a highway who
is confronted with three doors.

The door on the right — high
Happiness, and narrow- — admits one into
the path of Pallas Athene, and
there, at the very beginning of the journey,
stand the talents, represented by goddesses
or guides.

These guides step forward to meet the
man •who choses this path and accompany
him on his journey through life, leading him
to real happiness.

On the left is. the inviting door of Circe,
the beginning of "the path of wicked pleasure,
but the end of .this way is unhappiness.

In the center is the broad, easily entered '
doorway, through which the prosaic, com-
mon place, ambitionless men travel.

Men who have neither the brains to select
the right door, nor the courage — if I may
call it courage — to enter the door of pleasure, .
pass through the broad central door, and
never find real, true happiness in the rest
of their lives.

Excepted from the mass of men who
choose the commonplace, are the egotists
and contented, but their self centered hap-
s piness can never be likened to the happiness
found by men who are doing work that they
like.

Thus it is necessary to choose the right
door, to know one’s talents, and no work
will be toil.

Although one may never reach the heights
to which ambition urges, life will be com-
parable to a party fishing for trout in a
small lake.

They discover that the trout are to be
found in the next lake and journey there
only to find that the trout , are in still
another lake. .

Campus Cake. when he should give a cer-
tain signal, to shout at the
top of their voices. He gave the sign, and
lo! there was not so much as a single whis-
per. Everyone thought that surely his voice
would not be missed in that vast assembly,
and the result was there was no noise at all.

The conduct of those subjects towards
their king might be analogously applied to
the conduct of us, students of Notre Dame,
towards our campus. That we have one of
the most beautiful of college campuses is
undeniably true; that we give it the care
deserving of a beautiful campus is not so
true.

By the old students, .warnings to take care
of the campus are regarded as a positive
sign of spring; like a German band, or the
song of the robin. , But be that as it may,
we do not regard the campus in the light
we ought. It seems that we are pervaded
with the impression that was visited upon
the people .who gathered to shout for a
king — that we are exceptions.

^ Each one of us apparently thinks that the
“short cut” he takes will have no injurious
effect upon the green: That might be so if
there was only one of us, but we must re-
member that there are about fifteen hundred
who consider themselves the only ones who
do such things. Perhaps, a piece of paper
discarded on the campus by one student
would, be unnoticed. However, let fifteen
hundred use the quadrangle for a receptacle
to hold waste-paper, and the place soon
resembles an ideal rubbish-pile.

There is only one way to remedy these
conditions. Let each one regard the campus
as his own private property, and take care
of it as such. Let him remember that no
teacher has ever yet rebuked a man who

:6S

Isfie Notre 5ame Seholascier

came tardy for class and offered the excuse
for his lateness that he used the path in-
stead of the “short cut.” Let him remember
that the proceeds derived from scrap-paper
thrown into waste-baskets provided for that
purpose go for the benefit of the Bengal
Mission. — A. E. H.

Endeavor and The Endowment.

The grant of two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars to the University for en--.
dowment purposes is a mighty aid at a
mighty moment. It gives Notre Dame her
rightful place in the educational sun and
promises a vastly greater future for the old
school whose past has been so very great.
Now, of course, everything is contingent
upon the raising of an additional seven hun-
dred and fifty thousand dollars, and the big
question is, Can it be done?

There are optimistic persons who, without
giving the matter a moment’s thought, pre-
dict success with a confident certainty
worthy of Don Quixote. There are pessi-
mistic persons who shake their heads
mournfully and proclaim that the only
people that can raise money nowadays are
the tax-collectors. Naturally we prefer the
optimists, but we believe in facts. Are there
any reasonable grounds for believing that
money can be produced? What is the lay of
the land?

We may assume without any hesitation
that the University can raise an additional
.$250,000, either by large individual dona-
tions or in some other way. There remains,
therefore, the sum of $500,000 to be raised
generally throughout the country, and this
sum is the rub.

Is there any hope that is will be forth-
coming?

Take a look at the map of .the United
States, bearing in mind that the cosmopoli-
tan character of Notre Dame has given her
hosts of alumni,- students and . friends,
scattered with surprising evenness over the
country and even over foreign lands. There
are resources in Canada, Mexico, South
America and the Phillipines which ought to
assist, iii the great present - task of Notre
“Dame, but for the purposes of this discus-
sion, They will be considered a reserve,^ a

power to fill the gaps in our national
campaign.

Everyone knows that forty-eight states
exist. Scattered throughout these are, from
the Notre Dame, point of view, fifty regional
cities of importance. Chicago is such a city,
Cleveland another: Indiana has easily two,
South Bend and Indianapolis. Now if each
of these towns raised ten thousand dollars,
the problem would be solved. They could
easily do so, and perhaps they may. The
» only possible objection That can be raised
to this statement is, perhaps they may not.

Well, suppose they fail. For every one
of these large cities there are nine smaller
towns of some size and interest for Notre
Dame. Look at the map of Illinois and num-
ber the important names from Rockford to
Springfield. If the large city and the nine
smaller ones raised one thousand dollars
each, and the same thing were done through-
out the land, the problem would again be
solved. This is surely not too much to ex-'
pect and skepticism will probably grow less
confident when considering the problem
from this point of view.

We have, however, confined ourselves
thus far purely to the. cities, and we must
not forget that Notre Dame men of sterling
loyalty live* in villages and upon farms.
Suppose that round each of the ten cities
mentioned above were grouped nine lesser
^localities, making a total for the United
States, of five thousand active units: now
if every one of these units raised one hun-
dred dollars, the problem would be trium-
phantly solved. Perhaps some places would
not be able to' produce the amount specified
although/surely, one hundred dollars is not
an enormous sum. Still, the sums obtained'
in the larger places would compensate for
the deficits in smaller ones.- The idea is,
Very simply, that cooperation from everyone
will divide a large matter into many small
ones. ^ - . ' ' ~

*' It is a mistake to suppose that the money
needed must all be secured by, direct sub-
scription ; there are innumerable other ways.
During a recent campaign for a convent-
school two girls, raised, in . a .village of - three
thousand people only .sixty of whom were
Catholics, the- sum. of ‘250 dollars by means
of socials. . Such expedients as' recitals,

Noure Same Scholastic

369

motion-picture performances and even tak-
ing subscriptions for magazines have
worked successfully in the past and have by
no means outlived their usefulness. For
example vve shall suppose that the student
body at Notre Dame wished to raise a sub-
stantial sum for the endowment fund.
There are forty full weeks in the school
year, during every one of which fifteen
hundred students attend daily" prayer at
Notre Dame. If each of these voluntarily
contributed ten cents once a week for two
years, the amount raised at the end of the
period would be $12,400!

Enough has been said to suggest the. emi-
nent practicability of the movement. Natur-
ally it will not take care of . itself, it
'demands the hearty and earnest effort of
every friend of Notre Dame. Surely a
school which has set its seal so strongly
upon public opinion, which has earned the
admiration of so many, will not speak with
a voice crying in the wilderness, in this
which is almost the day of its salvation.

—V. ENGELS.

THE ST. THOMAS AQUINAS BANQUET.

On Monday, March 7th, the members of the
St. Thomas - Philosophical Society celebrated
the feast of their patron. At nine o’clock -all
heard Mass and went to Communion in Sorin
chapel. Father Cornelius Haggerty talked on
the religious aspects of the life of “The Philoso-
pher” as the great champion of Scholasticism
is called. At noon the students of “the ultimate
causes” assembled in the University parlors
to.be entertained by Edward Gottry, Walter
O’Keefe, Lenihan Daily, Charlie Davis, Mr.
Mureh and Mr. Mathison and Harry Hoffman’s
Orchestra. Thence the company . repaired • to
the Carroll Hall Dining Room to attend to
the wants of the inner man under the kindly

- X

stewardship of Brother Florian, who for years
has been the efficient purveyor on similar
auspicious occasions. Joseph Tierney, acting
as toast-master in the absence of Alfred Slag-
gert, called on Fathers Cunningham, Garrigan,
and Miltner and on Worth Clark and Mr.
Hogan for remarks. All of the talks were brief
but interesting and very much worth while.

- After the banquet Carl Arndt was reelected
president of the Society and Mr. Hogan was
elected secretary for the scholastic year begin-

ning next September. In conclusion, plans were
discussed for the cultivation of added interest
in the work of the organization.

THE DEBATES.

“Resolved: That the Federal Government
should own and operate all the coal mines in
the United States, (all questions as to trans-
portation waived and constitutionality
granted.”)

We are told in metaphysics that a thing
cannot be and be at . the same time; in logic,
that A and E propositions are contrary. In
fact the grand generalization we unconsciously
get from school life is that the truth alone is
worth while. Now, honorable judges, how can
you explain the action of Rev. Wm. Bolger,.
C. S. C., who has deliberately trained eight of
the brightest and most promising of our young
men of Notre Dame into convincing one set
of judges that the mines should be owned by
the government; and on the same evening. in
another city, proving to another group of
intelligent college professors that the govern-
ment should not own those mines?

The answer lies in the fact that it is the one
weakness of Father Bolger to train debating
teams which can go out and win on both sides
of the question. There are many who. think,
that if there were three or four sides, he would
produce the teams. And the record of Notre
Dame debating since 1899 until the present
year, consisting of 80 victories of a possible
38 contests, seems to confirm the impression
that the atmosphere of the school is as con-
ducive to the production of mental as of physical
athletes. Call- it a stimulus ’ in the case of de-
debaters or “the old pepper” on the football
squad, term it what you will, it is a brand of
enthusiasm which gets results. And that seems
to be the big idea in contests of all sorts. -

When the Indiana Intercollegiate Debating
League was formed from 12 Indiana colleges
last November, Notre Dame swung into prepa-
ration for a defense of its long and honorable
record in the art of rebuttal and plea. Handi-
caps threatened the long line of successes which
had existed before the war; there were no
experienced debaters left from the pre-war
days and there was no evidence of the enthusi-
asm which' had existed in previous times when
a place on the Notre Dame debating team was

370

'Sfie Notre S>ame Scholastic

considered one of the real honors within the
reach of a student.

Father Bolger began work with his charac-
teristic aggressiveness and nursed the meagre
30 men who made a serious attempt for the
team through the series of preliminaries from
which emerged the following men in the order
named: Raymond Gallagher, Leo Ward, Vin-
cent Engels, Joseph Rhomberg, James Hogan,
Frank Cavanaugh, Raymond Switalski and
Worth Clark. With but two weeks to prepare
for the first contests, Gallagher, Engels and
Rhomberg, with Worth Clark as alternate,
were chosen for the affirmative team; and
Hogan, Ward, and Cavanaugh, with Switalski
as alternate, formed the negative.

On the night of April 11 the twelve colleges
forming the" league met in triangles. Notre
Dame was aligned with Goshen and Valparaiso
and very promptly and efficiently won from
both schools by decisions of four to one in each
case. Notre Dame, Wabash and Manchester
were the only schools to nun on both sides of
the question; and according to the rules of the
league were grouped in the top triangle for the
final debates which were held Friday, March
18, too late to be included in this article. From
a viewpoint not entirely that of pure optimism,
the school has an excellent chance to win both
debates and lead the league with a clear title —
which however is merely a prediction, as it
must be remembered that the Notre Dame
affirmative team, handling the admittedly
weaker side of the question, must meet the
Manchester representatives who have already
won from Indiana Central. In the 12 contests
of the first series but three affirmative teams
won; and when Chicago, Northwestern and
Michigan debated the same question last year,
the affirmative was defeated in all instances.

V

The result of the first series, based on the
number of judges’ decisions, the colleges rank-
ing in the order named where the decisions are
equal: Notre Dame, 8; Wabash 7; Manches-
ter 6; Purdue 6; Valparaiso 6; Franklin . 5;
Indiana Central 5; Indiana University 5;
Depauw 4; Earlham 4; Butler 3 ; Goshen 1.
Following the final debates of March 18 the
teams will be given a permanent rating. Al-
though no material plans have been made the
League will probably function again next year ’
with , some possible changes. Notre Dame will
debate the University of Detroit later in the

present year and may appear in another contest
which is being tentatively considered.

In all contests the decision has been rendered
upon deliver and thought rather than the
merits of the question. Judges have been chosen
always from the faculty of the neutral school
in the particular triangle, and a novel plan
in the second series has conducted the debates
upon neutral grounds. In accordance with
this arrangement the Notre Dame affirmative
team met the Manchester negative at W abash ;
the local negative met Wabash affirmative at
Manchester; and Wabash negative and Man-
chester affirmative appeared at Washington
Hall before an audience which included many
of their own alumni and students of South Bend
and Mishawaka high schools.

In the Notre Dame-Goshen debate at Wash-
ington hall on March 11 the visitors were
plainly handicapped by the lack of a working
brief as they introduced a multitude of points
and became lost in the maze of their own statis-
tics. W. E. Oswalt was the most influential
speaker of our neighbor school and his team-
mates Allen King and A. F. Grassmeyer showed
the result of much hard work in collecting data.

Vincent Engels, Raymond Gallagher and
Worth Clark, composing the Notre Dame team,
were the more smoothly working group; and
though slightly confused at times by the mul-
tiplicity of argument offered by the negative,
piled up points in delivery and rebuttal which
forecasted a certain decision in their favor.
Both sides presented statistics which contra-
dicted the other’s, claimed as conclusive, proofs
which were not quite so strong as the govern--
ment; and upon occasions, indulged in fiery
pyrotechnics of oratory; but all things con-
sidered, the subject was well handled and its
treatment revealed the effect of months of hard
work and knowledge of the subject.

Although no fair comparison of the present
Notre Dame teams can be made with the ex-
perienced debaters of former years, it has been
said on competent authority, that the eight
men representing the school this year compare
most favorably with inexperienced men of other
years; and that with equal opportunity, they
bear promise of exceptionally strong men in
coming seasons.

Timothy Galvin, a lawyer of Valparaiso,
who, as the best speaker in two counties is a
living demonstration of the training which he
received as* a Notre Dame debater, has the

Tsfie Nacre cbame Seholasck?

37i

, following to say of the N D — Valpo meeting:

The debate between Notre Dame and Val-
paraiso, which was held in the University
Auditorium at Valparaiso, marked the first
meeting of the debating representatives of the
two schools. The debate was attended by a
large, enthusiastic crowd and it was in every
respect, a very" fine demonstration of inter-
collegiate debating. The crowd, of course,
favored Valparaiso, but all the Notre Dame
speakers were courteously received and the
announcement of Notre Dame’s victory was
greeted with generous applause.

Guernsey J. Borst, Ph. D., a member of the
faculty of Valparaiso University, presided at
the debate; while Messrs. Blosser, Gerig,
Witmer, Lehman and Fisher, all members of
the faculty of Goshen College, served as Judges.
The Valparaiso team, composed of Jack Pierce,
Edwin Van Sickle and George W. Stimpson,
espousing the affirmative of the question, ‘took
the position that conditions in the coal industry
are so bad, under present conditions, that it
is necessary for the government to own and
operate the coal mines. The Notre Dame team,
composed of Francis Cavanaugh, James Hogan
and Leo Ward, met the Valparaiso contention
by pointing out the inefficiency of government
management of great business enterprises
as compared with the private management of
the same enterprises.

* The constructive case of the Notre Dame
team was far superior to that of the Valparaiso
representatives. However, the Valparaiso men
displayed considerable cleverness in a rebuttal,
which kept the interest of the crowd at a high
pitch throughout the debate. Mr. Pierce was,
by far, the strongest "speaker for the Valparaiso
team, while it was the general consensus of
opinion that Mr. Hogan canned off the honors
for Notre Dame. However, all the Notre Dame
1 speakers deserve the highest praise for their
work. Mr. Cavanaugh opened the debate with
a ‘well considered speech, which was delivered
in a pleasing manner, while' Mr. Ward was
particularly effective in argument. The de-
cision of the Judges favored Notre Dame by a
vore of four to one.

THE WEEK’S REVIEW.

Only those persons who can prove beyond
- " the question of a doubt that they do not sleep
t throughout one-half of an intellectual lecture
can read this— the rest are troubled with in_

somnia. Heavy? — “Yea, verily!” as dear old
.Mrs. Hardeastle would say in a lucid moment
between sentiment and hysterics. Those who
did not sleep through the entire reading on
Wednesday afternoon’ became all but hysterical
when it was discovered that the fourth act was
not the last. Dr. Paulding says Goldsmith: — at
any rate, that Goldsmith is something or other
and much more respectable than “Heinrich” —
Ibsen. Dr. Paulding does not like Henrik Ibsen,
and the worthy gentleman took up the better
part of both lectures telling us so. According
to Goldsmith, -those fellows of the Restoration * »
must have been .a queer lot. The way they
carried on with serving maids and hootch was,
well, positively scandalous. Peppery chaps, too,
and what women! Dr. Paulding, without his -
shawl and occasionally without his gloves,
impersonated very naturally Goldsmith’s Lady
Hardeastle and the difficult Aunt Lucy of Booth
Tarkington’s novel, “The Magnificent Amber-
sons.” Dr. Paulding likes Tarkington, hates
Ibsen, and compares the writings of the two.
That is a bit too bad. Such statement weakens
one’s faith in the infallibility of the lecturer.’

Wednesday night Mr. Frederic Gorst’s de-
lightful whistle on “Birds” lasted a scant forty-
five minutes, yet the small number that made
up the audience were pleasantly entertained.

To know so many interesting facts about the
domestic life of birds that use the campus as a
sort of half-way house, opens up a field of
absorbing interest to us all. Nowadays one
gets a deal of personal satisfaction and amuse-
ment on a walk around the lake after breakfast,
in. trying to distinguish among the bewildering
variety of songsters, when our little sisters —
as St. Francis of Assisi called the birds— are
rejoicing in the glory of a new day.

Our second-hand tour through Constanti-
nople on Thursday evening, under the guidance .
of Dr. Newman, was very interesting. It is
still a question whether or not the “Climax”
on Saturday aimed to be a comedy or a tragedy;
it certainly was not drama. The cast was made
up of four people, three of whom were wholly
unnecessary.- The leading lady could sing,
and it was a pity she lost her voice at the end
of the first act and did not find it until it was
-time to get married. She had a great line;
and personally- we do not blame the doctor for
wanting her to lose her’ voice before he had *7
taken her for better or for worse. “The Song
of the- Soul” was enough to drive anyone into
celibacy. — Stevenson. ' ~ - '7

372

'SfieNocre (Dame Scholastic?

CAMPUS COMMENT.

— -Father Tim Maher, C. S. C., wishes to
thank the student body for the floral offering-
given him on his ninetieth birthday.

— The Minnesota Club will hold its banquet
shortly after the Easter vacation is over, ac-
cording to plans launched at a meeting Wednes-
day.

— Last Wednesday noon, Pio Montenegro,
’28, gave an address on America and her
dangers in the Phillipine Islands before the
• Rotary Club of South Bend.

— Through the Students' Activity Committee,
the students have pledged loyal support to the
campaign for the $750,000 'fund which the
University must raise to receive the recent
award from the Rockefeller educational foun-
dation.

— The Latin American Club and the Manila
Club will be hosts to executives of South Bend
companies whose factories have been visited
by the foreign students during the past two '
months at a banquet to be held the second week
- in April. A committee is already making elabo-
rate plans.

— The Students’ Activities Committee,
which heretofore has been meeting every
Thursday, has changed the time- of its
weekly meeting to Monday in order that the
student body may be informed of its acti-
vities in the Scholastic of the current week. -

— The Manila Club and the Latin-Ameri-
can Club have united to give a banqet some-
time during the second week after Easter
in honor of the members of those respective
clubs who are graduating this June.
Several business and professional men of
South Bend are to be invited. ,

—Pio Montenegro, whose ability as a speaker
is becoming known far and wide, will speak
before the St. Thomas Benevolent Society of
Indianapolis, March 28. His topic will be
“America’s Opportunity in the Far East.”
Members of the Indianapolis -Chamber of
Commerce will be guests of the society. - -

— The Gipp Memorial was the ^principal
question brought up at the S.- A. C. meeting
last' Monday. After consulting the -faculty,

: student opinion, .and memorial experts, the
committee decided upon a bronze tablet in
A memory of the great, athlete. This tablet

is to be secured through contributions of the
students and is to be exclusively a student
tribute. The faculty has been petitioned to
place this, tablet in a Hall of Fame, a cor-
ner to be set aside in the Old Students’ Hall
where other Notre Dame heroes will also be
remembered.

— The regular semi-monthy meeting of the
Knights was held in Walsh Hall, last Tues-
day. A report on the building fund was
made: Father O’Hara -was the speaker of .
the evening, and gave on of the best talks
of the year. Under the title, Amigo Ameri-
cano, he related many of his interesting ex-
periences in South America.

— ’Tis rumored around the campus that
workmen are busy in Chicago these days
decorating and furbishing the Gold Room of the
.Congress Hotel. There’s a reason: the big
doings of the Chicago Club are less than ten
days away. Tuesday evening, March 29, is
the time. The famous eight-piece Sunset orches-
tra of Chicago will furnish the music. If you
haven’t bought your tickets yet, don’t wait
any longer, say the committee.

— Folio-wing a suggestion of. the Juggler,
the S. A. C. petitioned the faculty for au-
thority to see what could be done in the way
of obtaining a waiting station at the end
of the car-line. Permission was obtained
and District Manager Watterson of the
Indiana Electric Corporation -was visited.
He has promised to take the matter up -with
the officials of the company and it is very
probable that in the near future street-car
patrons at N. D.- will not be forced to seek,
the protection of Uncle Sam’s domocile dur- '
ing the inclement weather.

' —The Utopian Committee closed shop Tues-
day. when the announcement .was made that a
Notre Dame-St. Mary’s" dance will probably
be held about: the middle of April. This news ■
emanated from the. Students’ Activities Com-
mittee, bearing all the ear-marks of truth.
Sister Claudia of St. 'Mary’s has approved the
dance. / Final sanction awaits the return of
Mother Pauline who is in the west. The affair
will, in all probability, be givenior the benefit
of the new Holy Cross Foreign Mission Semi- -
nary at Detroit. . .. > For all of which there is

j°y- ; •

, —Fourth degree members of the Knights

V*

Norre 5 ame Scholastic - 373

of Columbus from South Bend, Elkhart, and
r Niles, were guests of the Notre Dame Coun-
l cil at a banquet in Kable’s Dining Room last

| Tuesday evening. Rev, James Burn’s C. S.

I C., President of the University was the

ji guest of honor. The dinner was given with

; the purpose of bringing the Knights of

■ , nearby cities into closer relations with the

students', and from all reports the affair was
a marked success.

— The regular meeting of the Notre Dame
Branch of the A. I. E. E. was held Monday
^ night, March 7th. An outline of the hy-

draplic features of the Elkhart Power
Station was read by’ F. Miles, and a paper
on the electrical features of the Berrien
Springs Station was presented by C. de-
Tarnava. • The principal items of both
papers were discussed by all the members.
It was decided at this meeting to invite the
South Bend members of the A. I. E. E. to
attend Notre Dame meetings. The Electri-

1 - -

cal Engineers wil visit the South Bend
Power Plant on Monday afternoon March
14th. All are expected to be present for this
trip.

— The Chamber of Commerce met in the
library Monday evening to listen to a very
interesting lecture by Dr. C. A. Lippincott,
superintentent of the Welfare Work of the
Studebaker plant, on the Co-operative Plans
of the Studebaker Corporation. Dr. Lip-
pihcott explained what measures had been
adopted by his firm to -give aid to all its
needy employees. He denounced the term
‘welfare’ saying that it casted a reflection
upon his worker. Every man considers him-
self capable of looking after his own wel.
fare. In the place of ‘welfare’ Dr. Lippin-
cott advocated the substitution of the term
‘co-operative.’

1

— The robin is. considered by some per-
, sons to be the only trustworthy and genuine
harbinger of Spring. A few, who have little
or no faith in the prophetic powers of the
red-breasted feathered specie declare that
only authentic tokens of the termination of
Winter are the warm rains and thunder-
showers. But often the first robin frozen
to death and many supposedly spring rains,
in the course of a few moments, have been
. transformed into a deluge of hail .and. sleet.

The best of signs have often failed. But
when men of Notre Dame begin to spruce
up, rid themselves of winter’s -growth of
hair and come out of the brush 1 , as it were,
then and then only is the. time to resurrect
the good old flimsy B. V. Ds., remove the
odor of moth balls from the last summer’s
Palm Beach, yes, and even send the straw
hat to the cleaners for spring has really ar-
rived. News has come from Notre Dame’s
tonsorial parlor de luxe that during the past
week 8000 students surrendered themselves
to the charge of - Paul and his corps of im-
maculate white-coated knight’s of the steel.
Of these 800 prophets of Spring 288 called
for hair cuts ; 4 prepared .themselves to cope
on even terms with the hottest of weather
had their hair, save for the roots, entirely
removed ; 28 parted with their much coveted
side burns, chin whiskers and lip ticklers;
29 were toniced; 8 shampood; 9 massaged
and 3 even found it necessaiy to undergo a
singe. This, while conclusively proving the
arrival of Spring also gives a fair idea of
the persuasive powers of Paul and his staff
of proficient lather daubers . Huguenard *

YESTERDAY’S SORINITES.

— Hugh (Fricky) Farrell, law student
here during the years 1916-21, is now man-
aging a prominent stock and bond corpora-
tion in Rochester, N. Y.

•

— Joseph Doran, a student of law here
during the years 1918-19-20, who was
obliged to discontinue his studies on account
of the death of his father shortly before
Christmas, is now . associated with Milton
E. Gibbs, Counsellor and Attorney-at-Law
in Rochester, N. Y., and will be eligible for
the bar exams a year from this coming June.

— The specialization - course which the
General Electric Company offers to electri-
cal engineers has attracted a number of
.Notre Dame men since “Jim” Me Nulty E.
E. ’19 took, advantage of it two years ago.
Oscar Sidenfaden of Boise, Idaho and
George L. Sullivan of Butte, Montana who
received E. E. degrees last June are follow-
ing the course at the Schneetady plant.
William L. Wenzel and James L. Trente of
the same class are pursuing the work at the
Fort Wayne Plank

>- t

l

374

Tsfie Nor re, Same Seholascie

— Hugh S. Fullerton, the well-known
sport writer, tells a little secret about “Big
Ed” Ruelbach, once a Notre Dame Varsity-
man, who for three successive years led all
baseball in number of games won was chiefly
responsible for the many pennants" won by
the Cubs. “Big Ed” was known to the
‘horse-hide fans’ as “the -wildest man out of
captivity” and every possible explanation
but the true one was advanced to explain
his peculiar pitching at tunes. Fullerton
says that Reulbaeh was blind in one eye to
such an extent , that he sometimes lost the
use of both; yet, being a sensitive man he
never divulged his secret till years after he
had finished his career on the diamond.
Players, managers and baseball devotees
never suspected this weakness in their
mighty idol but the player’s secrecy caused
him considerable trouble after he had quit
the game for good.

— TIERNEY.

WHAT’S WHAT IN ATHLETICS.

HOPEFUL HOCKEY

All the world loves a fighter; but better
still, the fighter who wins. And the same old
world loves the good sport who plays a hard
game for the sake of the game; and finds him
rather hard to find in these days of baseball
scandal, the shadowy boxer and commercial-
ized football. But when he does appear he is-
all the more refreshing; and we hereby nomin-
ate for approval the Notre Dame Hockey squad.

Hockey prospects at the beginning of the
year consisted of one lake, 15 men, Capt. Paul
Castner and the energy of Father Cunningham;
and due to the accomplishments of these factors
in inverse order .the Pittsburgh Gazette-Times
published 4 the following bn March 10:

“It is doubtful if there is a better college
player in hockey today than Castner; he is
big and fast, takes the puck with ease and works
his way through the opposing line. Any team
with a man of the ability' of Castner will be
heard from.”

In. addition to the above quotation, Pitts-
burgh sport writers and the manager of
Duquesne garden stated that the Notre Dame
seven was the best college team to appear at
“ the; Garden during the season; which gives
'the local boys a clear ranking over Yale and

Pennsylvania, both of which had won from
Carnegie Tech at Pittsburgh. Notre Dame
alumni in the smoky city flocked to the Garden
and saw real N. D. spirit in action; and a dead
ember has become a smoldering fire in the
breasts of the “Irish sympathizers” in the
Ohio Valley.

Vhe local squad took the Carnegie Tech
game 2-0; and on a previous trip to Houghton
School of Mines, divided a brace of contests
at Calumet and Houghton, winning 3-2 and
losing 7-2. Proposed games with Culver and
•the University of Michigan were called off
because of the vagaries of the trick winter
which we have had in our midst for some time
back. Inquiries were received from St. Louis,
Detroit and Wisconsin universities.

Such is the result of one lake, 15 men, Paul
Castner, and Father Cunningham inversely.
The lake did its best in the matter of furnishing
ice; the men were on the job for practice which
was pitifully scarce; Capt. Paul swung a pick
and shovel in the completion of a rink on the
Badin campus as efficiently as when performing
the duties of “the best college hockey player
in America”; but to the energy and determina-
tion of Rev. Wm. Cunningham, worthy priest,
philosopher and a good sport, does Notre Dame
hockey, # (and much else of Notre Dame) owe
its greatest debt.

The ice game functioned throughout the
year as an unofficial sport which meant that
it was financed by its own returns: it faced the
handicap of a warm winter which prevented
its own practice work and interfered with games
scheduled at other points; it fed upon prospects
and faith — and blossomed forth as a hockey
team recognized among the best squads in the
country and in this respect relatively equal to
the other branches of Notre Dame sport. It
fought and won for the sake of the game alone;
and we nominate, as good sports and Notre
Dame men:

Rev. Wm. Cunningham, mgr; Paul Castner,
captain and rover; Neil Flynn, center; El-
dridge, Gentles, McDonald, Gorman and Feltes,
forwards; - Larson' and Wilcox, defense and'
Hunk Anderson and Dave Hayes, goal.

' • . ’ - ( . — WALLLACE.

THE BAD GE R~TR ACK-MEET '
Wisconsin 51; Notre Dame 35.

The story- of the Notre Dame-Wisconsin
track: meet at Madison March 12 is a story

Nocre Same ^eholascicr ’ 375

similar to that of the Illinois affair. In the
dashes, the shot put and the hurdles we were
very much and entertainingly present; but
in the mile, the two mile and pole vault, N. D.,
was simply N. E. — non est, non-existent —
whatever you will. We scored one point of
27 in these events and outscored the Badgers
34-25 in the other seven contests.

‘ A1 Ficks stepped out and took a monogram
in the 440 and Johnny Murphy earned his
first letter after serving the school nobly for
two seasons at home and abroad. Buck Shaw
repeated his splendid work by carrying away a
first in the shot put and the relay quartet won
its first victory of the year. Chet Wynne was
even up at the finish with Knollin in the high
hurdles but lost the decision of the judges;
and Capt. Kasper, and Rockne’s trio of promis-
ing youngsters, McBarnes, Flynn and Baumer,
broke into the scoring. Wilder and Merrick
of Wisconsin vaulted 12 1-2 feet, a wonderful
leap.

Summary:

40 yard dash:

1. Knollin W.; 2. Desch N. D.; 3. Ficks N. D.; Time 4.3
Shot Put

1. Shaw N. D.; 2. Gude W; 3. Flynn, N. D.; Distance,
41 feet 5 inches.

Pole vault:

1. Wilder and Merrick tied W; 3. Coxen W. Height
12 ft. 6 inches.

Mile run:

1. Wall W; 2. Brothers W; 3. Wille W. Time 4.37.
40 yard high hurdles:

1. Knpllins W; 2. Wynne N. D.; 3. Stolley W. and New-
ell W. tied. Time 5.3.

440 yard dash : ,

1. Ficks N D; 2. Johnson W; 3. Kayser W. Time 55.4.
High jump:

1. Murphy N D; 2. Mulcahy N D and Armstrong W
tied. Height 6 feet.

S80 yard run:

1. Nash W; 2. Kasper N-. D/; 3. McBarnes N. D.; Time
2 - 5 -

Mile Relay:

Won by Notre Dame: Ficks, Colgan, Montague and
Desch. Time 3.39 4-5.

■*-*-*■ ; —

THE INDOOR INTERHALL MEET.

'Brother Alan continued his habit of turning
out winners- from Brownson Hall by. adding
the annual indoor Inter-hall track meet trophy
to his rec room collection Thursday, March 10. .
The final scores follow: Brownson 42 1-3,
Corby, 32, Carroll .27 1-5, Badin 10, Walsh
9 1-3 Off-Campus 5 1-3.

McGivern, from somewhere in the maze of
Prof. Whitman's and Father Kelly's prep classes
stepped away from the pack for the high in-
dividual score of the day, 17 points, and looked
the best all-round athlete in the meet. Lou
Walsh, his teammat.e, has all the marks of a
coming “wiz” in the 220, while Johnson, a
pineapple of 16 is another prep comer.

Kohin of Brownson continued his improve-
ment of the Freshmen meet and scored 13 1-3
points for second honors, leading the way to
the Brownson victory. Kennedy and Bergman
were next high point-getters and Walsh, Loesch,
Cahill, Coughlin, Barber, Moes, Cameron,
Lieb and Geegan were prominent performers.

Brownson cinched the meet by making a
grand slam in the pole vault. Corby won the
Brown on cinched the meet by making a
grand slam in the pole vault. Corby won the
2-3 mile relay after a thrilling contest with
Brown on which required a judges’ consultation
to decide.

Summary:

1 40 yard low hurdles:

1. McGivern C. -2. Bergman K. 3. Kohin Br. 4: Johnson
C. Time .5.3.

40 yard high hurdles:

x. Kohin Br. 2. McGivern C. 3. Bergman K. 4. Lieb K.
Time 6 flat.

40 yard dash: ' -

1. McGivern C. 2 . Bergman K.,3. Cahill Br. 4. Walsh C.
Time 4.4.

220 yard dash: _

1. Walsh C. 2. Cahill Br. 3. Coughlin K. 4. Moore K.
Time 24.4. ’•

440 yard run:

1. Walsh W. 2. Geegan Br. 3. McGeath. D. 4. Avilez
C. Time 54.2.

SSo yard run: J -

Kennedy K. 2. Barber Br. 3. O’Hara Br. 4. Long W.
-Time 2.S 1-5.

Mile run:

1. Kennedy K. 2. Barber Br. 3. Connel D. 4. Gould
and Mann Wf Walsh. Time 4.42.

Shot put: ”

1. Lieb K. 2. Moes, Br. 3. Brady Br., 4.
Distance 37 - feet 3 ir2 inches.

Pole vault:

1. Cameron Br. 2. Hammil Br. 3. Hunger Br. Simon Br.
and Woodward D. Height 10 feet.

Broad jump:

1. Kogin Br. 2. McGivern C. 3. Johnson C. 4. Cameron.
Br. Distance r9 feet 6 in.

High jump:

1. Loesch Br. 2. Brady Br. Kohin Br. Buehle W: Walsh
C. Height 5 ft. 7 in. " ;

2-3 mile relay: ' - •

Won by Corby— Bergman, Moore, Lieb, .Coughlin

—WALLACE. ,

376

Noure Same Seholascie

SAFETY VALVE.

N

“Darling,” said the young wife, as she rubbed her
little face against his and purred gently, “do you like
dumplings?”

“No, I don’t like dumplings any ore than I like
lead. Do you suppose I want to ruin my stomach? ”
“But I have them for §upper” she replied as the tears
gathered in her eyes, “and I worked so hard on them.”
“I don’t see how you could have worked hard on
those soft mushy things. They may be good things for
drawing out boils but I wouldn’t eat one of them if I
were on a desert island and had nothing but an ice cream
cone.”

“But, dear,” she said, as she toyed with a button on
.his coat, “won’t you please eat one for me.”

“Eat one for you!!! Why I wouldn’t even eat one
for myself. You’ll have to eat your own. You made
them and you ought not to be afraid of them."

( quick curtain)

***

Yours Truly.

Nor Eoll Nor Pull a Bone.

A handsome boy with rosy cheeks,

Stood by them as they played,

A friend looked up at him and said
“I hope you never fade.”

And Then .The House Was Pulled.
Folks used to talk of sweet sixteen.

But things have changed of late,

The other night a' Corbyite
Kept saying “Come thweet eight.”

He who rolls must pay the Pfifer.

As Catch Can.

“Please can that stuff,” the senior said,
And try to be a man,

“I’ll do my best replied the frosh
But I don’t think I can.”

***

“True love is blind,” the lassie- shrieked,
The callow youth looked glum,

“You seem to think,” he said to her,

“True love is deaf and dumb.”

The Clinch.

“It’s time that you were getting next,”
Spoke forth the maiden fair,

And then she quickly lost her breath
For I was next to her.

Lip Lisps.

She talked right into his small mouth
He knew just what she said.

He must have read her lips, because
I’m sure her lips were red.

_ Pop vs. Slop.

“I see that beer is medicine,”

. Said Willie to Ms pop,

“And yet when you drank grandpa’s brew
I think you called it slop.”

' - . *** • V

At The Basket-Ball Game.

Out to the College court he drove
The girlie in his Hup, - '

And when the home team lost the ball
He shouted “Cover up.” -

She listened to liim for .awhile
And then said, full of gloom,

“You... should have: told them that, before
. They left the dressing room.” .

' L ; - \ 444" - ’ ' ' - * l * ' * -

’ . - - - /. ' / Page Milton. . '7 - \

“I’ll pay to get them back,” said he,

/-■: . .. Whatever be the cost, . \ . ’ - -

And then folks found to their surprise
’Twhs pair. ’o dice he lost. . i . I-

Even Hash?

“Have you an appetite?” she said,
‘The tramp looked up and cursed,
“Why lady I’ll eat anything
That doesn’t bite, me first.”

. ***

Shoulder, Arms? No.

Her face is pock marked everywhere,
Shoulders and arms lack grace,

“Am I not right?” I said, and he
- Replied “Right about face.”

444

At The Meet.

The student in his track suit stood
The maidens laugh was rippling,

. And turning to her friend she said
“Thats what they call a stripling.”

444

; One Good Turn.

. She told him all about her folks
About the family wreck,

Her ma divorced her pa, because
He wouldn’t wash his heck. ^ .

• “Please . keep this quiet,” said his wife,
Or Ma will raise, a riot,

He passed the bawling kid to her
And said, “Please keep this quiet.”

* '

‘ Soft Pedal.

“You’ve helped me so much with my math
The sweet girl said in glee,

“I don’t know r how to thank you, friend
You’ve been so good to me.” . .

“Don’t mention, it” dear girl I sighed . „
Her little face grew red, 7 -
And as I pressed my lips to hers; '_VA :
“Don’t mention it,” she said.